Ætharr of Calador, Book 3: The Ealdor
by Bob Stage
Summary: After defeating Oorlog, Ætharr and Judos return to Calador, where Ætharr becomes the Ealdor at last. Also continuing their stories are Thornback, Maon, Ben, Roaveen, Korari, Priam, and Adisa.
1. Chapter 1

**_Ætharr of Calador_**

_I don't own Redwall, Gangs of New York or the Godfather. I also do not intend to completely impersonate any kind of ritual or religion._

_**Book 3: The Ealdor**_

**Prologue**

Three days.

That's all it took to drive the remnants of the Millar troops out of Calador and take the Millar lands for their own. Three days of rapid marching, of volunteers enlisted, of divisions sent to various theign estates, of bloody skirmishes, of banishing the remnants of the Millar tribe to an eternity of a nomad, outcast life. Three days of Ætharr of Calador's glorious return to his homeland.

Judos noted a slight change in Ætharr since his return to Calador: he seemed more mature, somehow, though he still laughed and smiled with his friends, and was still mesmerized by Rosheen.

Rosheen's father, the legendary Tiarnan, had immediately taken to his new son-in-law, and privately informed the Ealdor that he was in his debt. Rosheen had told her father of everything Ætharr had done for her in imprisonment.

So the Falcarragh army now marched alongside the Calador army. Kazahley had gone to the Hunan lands to receive his fraction of the Hunan territory that was his reward. The rest was given to Blackaxe and the Jeri clan. Luther Pelopidas became a general in the Jeri army, and the leader of the Sacred Band, which had been re-established as the king's bodyguard and was recruiting the best of the best.

Ibos had not been in the least disturbed by Blackback's death, though he did show fury when news came of his father's death in a revolt. He had immediately departed with the Vireo army to avenge his father's death.

Tiarnan's eldest son, Cocoran, was the second-in-command of the Falcarragh troops, and had led the division sent to destroy the Hunan/Millar group against Ætharr. A group of Calador soldiers, quick to make a humorous compliment, teamed up with some Falcarragh troops, and they rapidly composed a song to which heavy quick drumbeats were played, and a wild tune on the pipes followed up. The song was affectionately called, "The Fighting Falcarragh"

_Come all you gallant heroes, along with me draw nigh_

_I'll sing a song, it won't take long, _

_Of the fighting Falcarrii_

_They're a band of warriors, stout and bold, _

_From o'er the hills they came_

_And they have a leader to the fold, _

_And Cocoran was his name_

_It was in the month of peril, _

_When the boys they marched away_

_And they made a sight so glorious, _

_As they marched along the way_

_They marched right down the way, me boys, _

_Tiarnan in the fore_

_And from there they came to evil lands, _

_And straight unto the war_

_So we gave them hearty cheers, me boys, which was greeted with a smile_

_Singing there's no way we'll lose this fight, with the Falcarragh in sight!!_

Brownhide was sent by Ibos to claim the Vireo's share of the Millar lands, which angered some of the Calador troops, for if anyone deserved more land, it was Tiarnan, whose efforts had been crucial in the taking of the Millar lands. Ætharr hushed them up, keeping his word to Ibos' deceased father Nero.

Tiarnan's kingdom was to the west of Calador, where they had raided its lands ceaselessly, along with all other lands it could. There was no ill will meant; they were a restless race of vermin that loved to scrap.

Ætharr was formally crowned Ealdor on the fourth day since their arrival in Calador and Millar. The rituals included a series of oaths, where the theigns swore eternal allegiance to the Ealdor, and many others would swear as well.

Blackaxe sent a message to Ætharr with his oath upon it, stating that he relinquished Captain Rojo to him. Rojo became the commander of the High Guard, which consisted of the Vireo, Jeri, and Calador troops that had been with Ætharr from the beginning; there was forty of them all told, all loyal veterans.

Rosheen and Ætharr were married in Falcarragh style, in thanks to the oaths that Tiarnan, Cocoran, and the rest of Rosheen's brothers swore to Ætharr. Some growled that it was not right, that the Calador tribe must remain pure Calador, but even they admitted that Rosheen was the perfect choice for their lord.

The remaining theigns were Viggo, Æđelstan, Ferric, Keld, Ulric, Horal, and Cynefrid. The rest had perished, either with Ætharr, or on the home front against Ælfer. Three theigns had to be appointed.

Ætharr knew he would have to think hard on who it would be to replace Gæruff, Aletorix, and Eadwig. All had been hard, tough beasts, but Ætharr was highly aware of the fact that he must trust those he appointed.

He was already aware of one of the replacements; it had happened on the second day, when Ætharr had taken Rojo, Ædall, and Ferric against a renegade band of Millars. It had become a fierce battle, and at one point, Ætharr was stunned by the leader.

Just as he was about to kill the Ealdor, a Calador weasel from the High Guard had beheaded the captain and had stood over his lord's body despite the wounds he received.

Afterwards, Ætharr had visited the weasel while being treated by Iola, the vixen sorceress/healer.

"What is your name?" Ætharr had asked.

The weasel stirred, and answered, "My name is Agricola, lord." Agricola was strongly built, fully grown, and was somewhere between middle age and early adulthood, nearing middle age.

Ætharr glanced to where a female weasel, presumably Agricola's wife, was bringing five toddlers forward, "Have you missed your family?"

Agricola smiled, "I left when she was pregnant, back when we left the village in the swamp."

Ætharr turned sharply and stared, "You've been with me that long?"

Agricola's smile faded, "I was there when Ællear fell to an arrow in his mouth, and Burg cleaned our wounds, and Ferric led you away to safety."

Ætharr had been deeply touched by this refreshed memory, and he tried to shove it back into the depth of his mind, "Is Burg still alive?"

Agricola nodded, "The six of us are all alive; you, Ferric, Burg, Lanvor, Sagleus, and myself."

Ætharr had looked away, into space, and gave Agricola a speculative look, "Can you read and write?"

Agricola smiled, "I was taught by Tran in the afternoon, while you were in the morning. You were younger than me, and a better student, but I learned my letters well enough."

Ætharr gave him a piece of parchment and a feather, "Write a message for me."

Agricola was puzzled- why should Ætharr make a wounded creature write what he could do himself?- but he carried out his command.

Ætharr spoke his message of victory out loud, as well as his strategies for the next day, watching as Agricola wrote down everything perfectly, not a single mistake.

He paused, waited for Agricola to look up, and spoke again, "I have also found myself a theign to rule Aletorix' old territory."

Agricola took a second to understand, and his wife, who had arrived during the writing, gasped in astonishment after a pause. Ætharr accepted Agricola's heartfelt thanks, and smiled fondly at his five pups.

That left two more to appoint. Who would they be? Rojo was the commander of the High Guard. Ædall was second-in-command of all the armies of Calador, and was also advisor to the Ealdor: he would also command in absence of Ætharr, so he had enough power. Jinn did not want a theignship, and he was also in command of a secret agent network.

Both answers were soon placed in front of him; Gyras, the only surviving son of Gæruff, had escaped into hiding, leading guerrillas out to harass the Millar renegades. He had become a legend among the commoners in that part of the Calador territory. He had guided Ulric through ambush-laden paths, and had followed Ulric's directions in the pitched battles. He was just entering adulthood, and was already engaged to be married. He could replace his father better than anyone else.

The third was Judos. Judos had proven himself to Ætharr every time, and they knew and loved each other like brothers. Ætharr would give him Eadwig's theignship, the one closest to Æthelly, the capital city, and thus independent of theign rule.

Judos had protested, saying that it was not right, that he was unprepared, but Ætharr had waved him down, "I want you in a position of power, Judos. You I can trust beyond anyone short of Jinn, Ædall, or Rosheen."

Judos was at first touched, but then inwardly saw the suspicion behind Ætharr. He feared an arrow in his mouth, a hacked up corpse, and a crippled country.

He knew that Judos was too moral and too loyal to betray Ætharr, so he was ensuring a permanent ally among the theigns, as well as inside Æthelly.

Judos did not mention any of this to Ætharr, but he firmly accepted the promotion, and toasted his good health.

Thus was Ætharr's retaking of Calador complete. He would deal with those who had wavered in loyalty, and would reward those who were faithful.

In short, an Ealdor in Exile had come out of exile to reclaim what was rightfully his, and now the country would either benefit, or suffer, under his rule.


	2. Chapter 2

1

Diomede had gone over to Taskill.

That was what Walla had seen, and that was what she told Orestes after the wedding.

Thornback had never seen anything like Maon's wedding. It was two days of happy celebration, much well-wishing for the young couple, and for Thornback, he couldn't get out of his mind that they had to go back to a city under conflict.Priam had refused to talk about it during the wedding, and Thornback did not want to create anxiety on such a happy occasion. Maon had looked entirely happy, while Harmonia positively glowed. Jander and Skipper led the drinking and eating games, challenging all to eat as much shrimp & hotroot soup as they could.

Shrimp & hotroot soup was the famous otter cuisine, famous for its incredible spiciness, which was said could thaw out a river gripped in a winter gale.

Jander and Skipper had spent the three days prior to the wedding assembling the necessary ingredients, and they had had to find substitutes on some occasions. Nevertheless, through Skipper and Jander's marvellous dedication, the soup was as spicy as possible. They cheerfully scooped a great deal down while most of the others choked and dunked their heads into buckets of cold water.

Orestes had toasted to his daughter's happiness, and to the well-being of his new son-in-law. Helle was inconsolable, and led a choir of weeping lady friends, though the tears were of happiness, and no one blamed them.

Raga stood to attention like a chaperone, declining the rowdy company of Jander or Skipper, preferring to talk politics with the oldest of the hares, alone among those who decided to unleash their happiness and urge to play. Even Orestes attempted to spoon the hotroot soup, and even triumphed over his son, Priam.

Priam was coming back to assume the rightful throne of Bucko Bigbones, which had lain empty since the death of his grandson. It had led to many things, the most recent of which was the gang rule that was going on in the Highlands.

Priam was not alone; several of his friends wished to go and see a bit more of the world, but Thornback had a dark feeling that they would be appalled at the destructive violence, which none had ever witnessed before.

Maon and Harmonia both agreed that it was best if they left for the Highlands as soon as they could and so tearful farewells were made.

Orestes put on a brave face as he hugged his son and kissed his daughter goodbye: he shook hands with Raga, Thornback and Maon, and nodded at Jander and Skipper respectively.

The procession consisted of Priam, Harmonia, Maon, Thornback, Jander, Skipper, Raga, and twenty of Priam and Harmonia's friends.

The tunnels were dark for the most part, and Thornback, at the back of the line, apologized endlessly for stepping on other creatures' feet.

Raga led the expedition, being the highest-ranking creature there, and he carried two torches for everyone's benefit. Jander, for his part, would pull faces at Raga whenever he could.

Maon had originally begun leading Harmonia like a gentleman, but found that he was so unused to this underground tunnel travel that he himself had to be guided by Harmonia and Priam.

There were moments, however, where the sight of within the mountains, was simply fantastic. Once they passed a waterfall beneath the ground, and Skipper had stared in amazement at the sight.

Finally, there came an end to the tunnels, and parkas were wrapped tightly together as the procession entered the blinding rays of daylight.

Maon was the first to see the Highlands, and his face fell for a few seconds. He was remembering that his brother was dead, killed gruesomely by Taskill.

Thornback, on the other hand, was anxious to return, to see Ben again, and Machar, and the others that he had met. He also wanted to find the King's Scroll.

Priam and Harmonia's friends badgered Maon and the others about life in the Highlands, and the questions were answered even as they neared the city.

Priam and Harmonia stared as they walked past the outskirts of the city, staring at the multitude of hares, at the variety and the plenty of everything.

Some hares made trouble for them by asking where they belonged, and Maon's face could have led to a bad scene. Fortunately, Maon and the others stayed surrounded by the newcomers, so the questioners assumed that they were all immigrants.

Thornback got a catch in his throat when he approached the Headquarters of the Black Rabbits, the gang led first by Mungan, then Macrath. Now it belonged to Maon.

Hares within cheered at the sight of Maon, and were stunned at the sight of Priam, the descendent of Fergus, whom all believed had died without heirs.

Harmonia was graciously welcomed as Maon's wife, and all their friends were found quarters.

Thornback asked Earnan, a cousin of Maon's, to come aside, "Where's Ben?"

Earnan shrugged, "He'll be at his shop, Ah guess."

"Shop! He's got a shop?" Thornback was blown away at this news. Ben, the wandering nomad, a store owner?

"Aye he does. Doin' quite well too, last Ah checked. Ye should see for yerself." Earnan gave Thornback the directions, which were simple, because Ben did not live that far away.

Thornback headed for the door, when a voice called him back, "Thornback, where are you going?"

Raga approached him, a puzzled look on his face. Thornback answered, "I'm going to see Ben."

Raga and Ben despised one another; Raga was the ideal knight, Ben the ideal mercenary. It was a pity it had happened that way, for both were good creatures.

Raga sighed his annoyance, but shrugged and said nothing more as Thornback left. He acted quite mature sometimes, so that Thornback wondered exactly how old he was. Certainly he was as strict as an old beast. Like Thornback's father Oakfur.

Thornback headed for Ben's shop, which opened to a town square, one of many in the city, and stood atop a rocky slope.

The sign in front read out 'Benjamin's Arts', and Thornback could not help but laugh at how Ben now used his full name.

He went up to the front door, unsure of whether he should go in.

He heard footsteps behind him; turning around, he saw an old hare wife, pulling her teenaged son forward, "Come, come now, dear; mister Benjamin closes in three hours, and then we'll have to come tomorrow." They walked past Thornback as if he were a statue, into the shop.

Thornback went forward and slipped through the door just before it closed.

It was amazing: a large fireplace was to the left of Thornback's vision, complete with a mantelpiece littered with ornate carvings of chalk, wood, and clay. There were even a few jade sculptures. Paintings were posted around the room, and there were tables set up everywhere, in no real order. Staring straight ahead, Thornback could see a door that doubtlessly led to a kitchen of some kind. Next to the door was a flight of stairs. Candles were lit to illuminate the room, and stuffed birds and fish were also posted around.

Around half a dozen hares were in the shop, mingling and staring and thinking about whether to buy something or not.

Thornback could not see Ben anywhere, until he heard a voice directly to his right, "And how may I help you?"

Whipping around, Thornback stared delightfully at the striped face of the raccoon. Ben had discarded his patched, faded blue, buttoned shirt for a brown tiled vest over a clean, white shirt with a fine leather belt. However, he still held his shillelagh looped in his paw. The notches on his club each represented a slain foe in battle. Thornback could also see that Ben had a large battleaxe hanging behind his head. Ben looked the formidable business owner that could, from his position next to the door, see who came in and where everyone was.

Thornback clasped the raccoon's outstretched paw. Ben had done wonders for himself, and he looked incredibly happy.

"I heard that a descendant of Bucko announced himself to Taskill. Then I hear that you came back with the rightful heir."

"You heard right.' Thornback smiled, and jerked his head at the milling customers, 'Business is booming?"

Ben smiled, "Aye, it is. This bartering system is great, and everyone gets served properly."

As he spoke, the hare wife that Thornback had seen outside came up, her son in tow, "Mister Benjamin, sir? Are you busy?"

"No, what is it?" Ben looked as though Thornback had never come into his shop.

"I was wondering if you would be interested in some more potatoes from our garden."

"I could use some more, yes. They're the best ones around."

"Well, I've had my eye on this for a while." She indicated the large statue of a hare holding a hoe in one hand, his daughter's hand in the other. They were standing straight, and staring out into the distance with an expression of adventurous hope in their eyes.

Ben made a clicking noise of agreement, "It's pretty good- took me two weeks- so let's say two bags of potatoes?" He spat on his paw and offered it to the hare.

She looked apprehensive, "Well, mister Benjamin, it hasn't been our most successful year, and we need some food for ourselves."

Ben paused, "Is that so? In that case, one bag of potatoes, and a brace of turnips."

The hare wife nodded eagerly, spat on her paw, and shook Ben's hand. She promised to send her son with the payment later that day.

Ben, his business done, turned back to Thornback, but the badger noticed that his paw was tightly gripped on his shillelagh, "So it's true? You found a descendant? And the Scroll?"

"Yes and no,' Thornback answered, 'We found a religious cult of hares founded by Fergus back when he and a group of younger hares fled into the mountains. Priam came back to reclaim the kingdom, but we also need to find the King's Scroll."

Ben nodded slowly, "So is there a clue to where it is?"

"There's one in the swamp."

Ben froze, "I've been in that swamp a dozen times, and _now_ you come to tell me about it?"

Thornback stared, "What do you go into that swamp for?" Ben would have answered, but at that point, another customer came forward, wishing to purchase a fine-looking stuffed lizard. Thornback remembered that his friend loved to eat meat, especially reptiles. He rolled his eyes and walked out.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Thornback decided not to ask Ben to come along; he was too busy, and the badger did not want to wait for closing hours. He took Skipper and Jander aside and asked them to come. They agreed readily, and Maon's cousin Earnan volunteered as well, along with Priam and two of his friends.

They set out quickly for the swamp, for they did not want to be stopped.

While they were going, Earnan filled everyone in on what had happened while they were gone, including the death of Macrath. Thornback, who had heard the story before when Walla visited, knew the gory details only too well.

As they approached the swamp, about 20 metres away, they noticed a funny smell in the air. This was interpreted as the sign to don the masks they had prepared. Thornback hesitated, but remembered it was his better his urine, than some dreadful disease.

The ammonia in the urine protected the group as they started through the thick black mud. It was a bog, of heavy mists, and the sound of creatures in the distance.

They did not see any of the large lizards or adders. Ben had taken care of it by hunting the marshes for food, so now they were suspicious of all.

The group split up, heading in different directions to cover the whole area of the swamp.

Thornback could hear Skipper entering the watery passage so as to travel faster, his head still above the surface.

Jander had found several skeleton trees, and he leapt to the top of the most stable. Earnan cursed as he almost fell face first into the mud. Priam brushed some reeds to the side as he attempted to stare through the mist.

Thornback could barely see three feet ahead of him, it was getting so misty. He listened as best as he could, hoping for almost anything to happen.

Just as he thought this, a little lizard scurried across his feet, causing the badger to jump in surprise. He heard a slithering in the reeds that was likely a snake. Thornback shivered so hard that he almost fell back from the effort: he hated snakes with a passion, and he was suddenly glad that Ben hunted them and ate them.

Thornback struggled to get up from the mud, and then he heard a voice call out, "I've got it!"

They gathered round the caller. Skipper had found it in the water, contained in a waterproof container that must have been lying there for at least a hundred seasons. It had been weighted down by rocks, so it had stayed beneath the water, preserved by the mud of the bog.

Thornback was relieved, "Let's get out of here then." He turned to leave, only to be stopped by a call from Earnan, "Don't ye want tae see the next clue?"Thornback threw his head over his shoulder, "Are you kidding? I'm getting this rag off my face, and then I'm going to take a bath!"

Everyone laughed, and followed him out of the swamp.


	3. Chapter 3

2

Rosheen had become very shy of Ætharr as of late. She would blush in his presence, and leave quietly as quick as she could.

Judos found it immensely odd, and tried to ask her about it. She would fearfully ask if others noticed it, and when Judos said no, she was immensely relieved. She made him promise never to talk to Ætharr about it.

Still, Judos was mightily curious about what was going on with those two, but his new duties as theign kept him very busy.

He had been accepted among the fyrd due to his bravery at the Battle of the Ridge, and once the fyrd accepted him, their families and friends followed suit. Judos tried to earn respect on a managing scale, and spent a week touring his land.

Eadwig had been a good ruler, but his absence and the recent conflicts had caused damage to the land and its people. There were farms to be rebuilt, due to the Millar raids, and the news of the battle's casualties to be delivered.

Judos hated the latter part of the tour. It broke his heart to see the families hear news of a lost father, son, brother, or uncle. Some mothers had wailed their grief, while others had put on a brave face and nodded grimly.

Judos tried to help them, allowing some especially hit families a season without paying their tithes, but he always felt that it wasn't good enough. It would never be enough, not until death could be reversed, and that was not going to happen any time soon.

He went to Ætharr a few times, asking him on his advice. Every time, Ætharr would tell him a hint, and then let him go from there. Many seasons later, Judos would look back and acknowledge the cleverness of the weasel with approval.

Ætharr himself was dealing with his other theigns. Agricola had moved into Aletorix' old palace, and had begun a project to wall off several of the largest villages. It would cause raiders to hesitate, knowing that even if they avoided these towns, their garrisons would cut off their retreats. Most of the other theigns were picking up on this, and many towns were fortified properly in this way.

Ætharr, at one point, was at supper with his theigns and their wives, if they had any. Ferric had recently married, and was intent on starting a family. Horal and Judos remained single, as were a few others. Rosheen sat at his side, and the theigns were lined up along both sides of the table.

Ætharr never let his guard down anymore: he had decided never to take anyone's oath of loyalty for granted anymore. He would judge his theigns by their actions and personalities, not their words of honour.

He scanned the theigns with his eyes, all his intelligence concealed in his bright pupils.

Gyras and Ulric were sitting closest to him. He knew that both theigns were very patriotic and honest. Ætharr was especially grateful to Ulric, for it had been he who had managed the resistance on the home front. Gyras was young and headstrong, raised by a responsible and strong father intensely loyal to the rightful Ealdor. Ætharr did not fear anything from Gyras either.

Judos sat next to Gyras, but he was too busy chatting with Ædall. Ædall did not seem to talk too much anymore, which was surprising. He looked a bit more serious, the mirth in his eyes faded for some reason. Probably he wanted another war, Ætharr laughed inwardly. He would give his cousin an exciting job tomorrow morning.

Jinn was sitting at the far end, eating slowly yet steadily. He was staring at the table, deep in thought, not noticing his friend and lord's scrutiny.

Horal and Ferric were sitting closest to Jinn, digging into their roast bird with relish. Ætharr had a strange certainty that Ferric would never betray him. He had been there when his father had died, and so he could surely not slay him after saving his life?

Æđelstan was drinking from his pint, eyeing Ferric's new wife with a dull disinterest. Ædelstan was a tough, wiry built weasel that preferred fighting with two short swords instead of shield. He had been wary of Ætharr's success, but had not openly sided with Ælfer. Ætharr would observe him very carefully in the weeks to come. The same would be said of Keld, who was at present bickering with Cynefrid. Cynefrid was a sharp creature, with eyes that seemed to pierce through you when you stared at him. He was a brilliant administrator of justice, but his punishments could be very severe.

Agricola bounced his smallest child on his knee as he ate his lizard steak. Agricola was another of those who had been at the ambush, and Ætharr knew that such an honest family man could not betray him.

It was Viggo that made him most suspicious. He stared coldly at the weasel.

Viggo had seemed old to him as a child; now he was downright decrepit. The weasel was the oldest one there, and he was no warrior. He had been crippled in a childhood accident, and if it wasn't for his genius, he would never have become a theign.

Ætharr had despised Viggo while growing up, and often mocked the weasel's reedy voice and limping walk. Then his father had caught him, and it had been one of the only times that Ællear had ever struck his son. He had angrily told Ætharr that he should never underestimate creatures like Viggo; they were far more dangerous than any warrior, for they could think fast and brilliantly.

Viggo, to Ætharr, had never equalled to warriors like Ulric or the deceased Gæruff, but he knew from his father's lessons that an Ealdor needed intelligence more than his strength in battle when handling the theigns.

Viggo did not notice Ætharr, or else he did not look directly at the Ealdor. He was too busy cutting his fish into small pieces. 'Bloody decrepit old weasel,' Ætharr thought with all strength of a younger creature.

Suddenly, Rosheen got up and left abruptly. She excused herself hastily, and ran out of the hall.

Ætharr was surprised and concerned. Ulric saw this concern, "Do you want a nurse to see her, my lord?"

Ætharr nodded slowly, "Thank you, Ulric. Would you mind sending for one? I want to see her first though."

He got up as Ulric instructed one of the guards to find a nurse. He hurried after Rosheen, wondering what was wrong.

He found her gasping, doubled up near a patch of dirt where she'd been sick.

Ætharr knelt down, clutching her shoulders, "Are you alright?"

She nodded slowly, "Aye, I am." There was something in her voice that made Ætharr puzzle. Her lilting accent was especially strong, and she sounded dizzy.

Realization began to grow in Ætharr's gut, and it began to snowball, but the Ealdor dare not let it grow too big before he asked, "You have something to tell me Rosheen."

She looked up at him, her eyes glowing, "I wasn't sure of it until now. I'm pregnant, Ætharr."

Happiness exploded into his stomach, and he choked up all cheers of joy. His face appeared stunned, yet ecstatic, "Truly?!"

Rosheen nodded, and rested her head on Ætharr's shoulder with a sigh.

Ætharr carried her back to the hall, where Judos met them halfway, along with a physician and two maids.

Judos stared at the scene; Ætharr was carrying a half-delirious Rosheen, both looking amazed and happy. What was going on?

Ætharr saw the other theigns approach, even old Viggo, and for once he forgot about his scorn for the weasel. He called out happily, "See to my wife, doctor. She is with child!"

A cheer began from the theigns, and even Ædall offered a half-smile and clapped his cousin on the shoulder. Jinn grinned happily, and Agricola offered his congratulations.

Judos sighed with relief; Rosheen was pregnant. That was all. And now he laughed at the sight of his friend in such pleasure. Only Rosheen could make him so happy.

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Krieg could not believe that he was doing this.

Roaveen was a good leader, albeit haughty and proud, but a good person. Why would mistrust his brother Korari with corrupting the Mountain Regiment?

Roaveen had broken tradition by creating a regiment separate from the Long Patrol. It consisted of about sixteen war-hardened hares, and an assortment of unblooded youngsters. Roaveen was the commander, Krieg was the lieutenant, and there was Sergeant Liofe and Ensigns Ormond and Sophus.

Korari held no rank in the Regiment, but was there voluntarily. He loved mingling with the hares, talking with them and training with them. He remembered names well, and tried to make everyone welcome and comfortable.

Roaveen saw Korari as a usurper, turning his hares from their commander. Korari had always been resentful of the praise his oldest brother had gotten from Oakfur, their father. Thornback had departed because of it, and Korari had given up.

Evidently, Korari had not given up and was plotting behind Roaveen's back. Krieg sighed as he watched Korari walking down the hall, unaware he was being tailed.

Korari went to breakfast, like everyone else: he shunned sitting close to his father, and sat next to Leaflock, one of the younger hares in the Regiment. Sophus and Ormond were sitting on his other side.

Krieg was hungry, and took a slice of bread, smearing jam on it. He casually walked close to hear what Korari was saying. There were hares coming and going from the table so he was not looked at in surprise.

Leaflock was telling a joke, and by the end of it Korari was laughing loudly. Sophus gave an indignant sniff, whereupon Ormond grinned at his friend.

Oakfur was sitting at his usual place. He had once been a mighty badger warrior, but he was now past his prime. He was very grey-furred now, and putting on some weight. However, he was far from weak; he routinely worked in his forge, helping to stay healthy.

Oakfur had been a good badger lord, but in matter of his sons, he had been incredibly stubborn, favouring Roaveen over the others.

Krieg noticed Roaveen sitting by his father; the badger stood tall and powerful. He was the heir to the Throne of Salamandastron, and he certainly looked and acted the part. There were those who disliked him though, such as the two senior officers of the Long Patrol, Colonel Seahawk and Major Jackers. Despite these two, Roaveen had a legion of supporters in the mountain, and his lineage was assured.

Lieutenant Krieg looked back to Korari; he was talking to three of the recruits, poking fun at Ensign 'Sofa', who was fighting back with his high vocabulary and his friend Ormond's quick wit.

Krieg felt bad all of a sudden; these orders were created out of paranoia and rivalry: they were not properly justified, for he saw nothing wrong with Korari.

Later that day, the Mountain Regiment united to begin training; they were at present working on the heavy wooden swords that would train their arm so that the real swords, half the weight of the training weapons, would be like feathers in their arms.

Some struggled with the heavy swords, but Roaveen wanted the Regiment to run like a united machine, well-oiled and as one beast.

Liofe roared out orders and encouragement to the troops. Liofe was a good sergeant, and Roaveen had noticed this characteristic rapidly in the older hare. Liofe was probably the oldest hare there, after Krieg.

Krieg was the age of Jackers, and Jackers was a major. Krieg had faithfully served the mountain in the Long Patrol for many, many seasons. And yet, after all this good service, he had remained a private. It wasn't until Oakfur saw the need for veterans in Roaveen's Regiment that Krieg had been appointed to lieutenant.

Deep down, in a part of his mind that Krieg never liked to allow control over his words and actions, he resented the bad luck that life had thrown at him. He was getting quite old, and he wasn't even a captain. Captain Roselyn, newly appointed after a skirmish with a band of roving pirates, was a third of Krieg's age. She would rise quite far, likely succeeding Jackers, and then Seahawk. It was not fair that she should have that virtually promised to her, while he was not even a qualified officer in the Long Patrol. Roaveen had been insistent in the fact that his Mountain Regiment was independent of the Long Patrol.

What was he to do? Salamandastron was consumed in peacetime, a time with little promotion indeed. Krieg had even little chance of success, but then he always dismissed these dark thoughts of ambition and temptation. He was satisfied that he was second-in-command of the Mountain Regiment.

So he continued along his way, observing as the Regiment troops trained as they could. He was proud of the youngsters; they were enthusiastic, and they loved their lord, wanting him to lead them to glory.

Why couldn't Roaveen see this? Why couldn't see the devotion that they had for the Regiment?

Because Roaveen noted the liking that the Regiment was taking to his youngest brother.

Krieg sighed to himself. Leaflock, hearing the sigh, interpreted as disapproval of his demonstration. He attempted to move even faster, his teeth gritted at the amount of strength needed to keep the sword up.

Korari, his partner, feigned defeat, and congratulated a jubilant youth on success he would soon earn on his own.


	4. Chapter 4

3

Thornback stared, astonished at the clue,

_The paper I have for you to seek out_

_Is hidden near the temple of my lords_

_They lie undisturbed, well-preserved and proud_

_With shields and armour and axe and swords_

_He roams the mountains and forests of pine_

_She flies in the cold air of the far north_

_Take the missing link, and apply one plus nine_

_With this in your mind, go out and forth_

_But I must warn you of sacrilege_

_Do not get caught, for useless is my pledge_

Maon had no idea what it was talking about, "The king is the highest lord is he not? Who would he be talkin' aboot?"

Jander and Skipper racked their brains, but could not think of what Bucko II had been talking about.

They, along with Maon, Priam, Earnan, Thornback, and the otter siblings, were sitting in the cellar of the Black Rabbits' headquarters. Shane, June, and Talia had lost their sister Peggy in the gang battle that had resulted in the deaths of Mungan and Ebs. June and Talia were recovering, but Shane looked dead inside; his eyes smouldered without seeing clearly.

Thornback had a nagging feeling, like he was missing something. Useless is my pledge...sacrilege...the temple of my lords...

He was suddenly distracted by Shane. The otter was not saying a word, barely moving. The otter did little much other than eat, sleep, listen vaguely, and relieve himself of excrement. He did things without question, but moved as though he were hypnotized into doing things.

Earnan was the one that came up with an idea. He had stared at the lines for an age before exclaiming, "Of bally course! Ah think Ah have et, laddies!"

"Wot do ye have, cousin?" Maon asked.

"We should go an' see Bethia first, so Ah'll be sure."

Bethia was in charge of the archives, and was one of the historians of the Highlands. Mungan and Ebs had had much faith in her, and their deaths did not change the new generation's opinion of her.

Bethia brightened as they walked in, "Ah it's you lot again!' her face fell, 'I was so said about your father, Maon, and then your brother too-"

"-Never mind that, we need yer help," Maon brushed through the sympathy briskly, not wanting to bring up a painful subject.

Priam and his friends were introduced, and Bethia stuttered at her astonishment, "The heir to the Highlands! Oh dear me, dear, dear...' flustered as she was, she caught Earnan's question the first time he said it.

"Miss, where es the tomb o' King Bucko?"

A stunned silence enveloped them all- if he was suggesting what they thought, then the third clue was hidden in the tomb of Bucko II's forefathers.

Bethia pulled out a very dusty scroll of parchment, "Well then, we must refer to the catalogues written about the royal burial of Bucko Bigbones."

Maon stared at his cousin in surprise. Sacrilege indeed! To raid the tombs of the utmost symbolism and importance to the Highlands! Coincidently, Bucko II was also buried there, coincidentally. He had been the last one to be buried in the Tomb of the Kings.

Bethia stared at the ancient runes on the parchment, "The Highlands' three kings were buried in the Royal Tomb, which has been untouched by anyone since Bucko II was laid to rest."

"So where is the tomb?" Thornback was impatient.

Bethia shook her head sadly, "I cannot tell you. It does not say where the tomb is. They say that there are marks on the buildings in the city that tell you where the tomb is."

"So what are we looking for?" Jander was bracing himself to mentally keep the next scrap of information in his brain.

Bethia looked again, "It says that if you find the mark that resembles a sword through a crown, you will find the Tomb of the Kings. But it says to be warned, for there are traps laid out by the priests and shamans of the past."

Skipper shuddered, and turned to the others, "We'd better be careful, mateys."

Maon had gone still. He seemed to be hit with a realization. Thornback noticed it first and tapped his friend on the shoulder, "Uh, Maon? What is it?"Maon shook him off, still staring, "Ah've seen that mark before. It's in the caverns; no one ever comes oot of et, ever. The gangs have never used et."

Bethia looked concerned, "You fellows must be very careful. Those traps were laid out when Bucko II was laid to rest, as he had no heirs. Normally the king's bodyguard would take turns guarding it, but why have a guard for no king? The king's bodyguard was abolished when the king's lineage died."

She pulled out a fresh new page of parchment that she used to write down some notes, "Here are the traps written down, but there's a problem. There were four traps laid out, and this document speaks only of three. The first trap is a missing step in the pathway: it will be hard to see, and if you fall through, there's a pit, filled with spikes. Just be careful to look where you're going."

Skipper nodded, "And the next thing?"

Bethia wrote something else down, "You must move across a tiled floor, walking on the correct letters, or else you will break through the unsupported tile and fall to your death."

"But what is the word?" Jander was puzzled.

Bethia shrugged sadly, "The only way you could do it is through trial and error."

Thornback scowled angrily, but kept his frustration out of his tone of voice, "And the last?"

Bethia read on, "You must open a closed door with a code. The code is a tight secret that few knew even when Bucko II was alive. It has to do with the tiled floor code."

Maon shrugged, "Weel, that's as good as et will get. Thank ye, Lady Bethia for yer help."

Bethia suddenly frowned, "May I see the clue?"

Taking the scrap of paper, Bethia took it and turned it over in her paws. Staring at it in surprise, she peered at a corner of the paper.

"Quick, someone get me my spectacles!"

Astonished, Priam gave her the spectacles, which she put on and stared intently at the piece of writing. Clucking her tongue, she looked up at them, "You've mixed up the order of the clues."

"What?" Maon was thunderstruck.

"Come again?" Skipper said at the same time as Maon.

"This is the last clue. You missed the second clue."

Thornback could not believe it, "But that's impossible! We found this clue in the swamp, where the first one said it would be."

Bethia asked for the first clue, and she examined it. Handing it back, she shrugged, "It should have been the second clue."

Thornback looked at his comrades, "Bucko II wouldn't have made this mistake. This was someone else's doing."

Maon shrugged, "How could et be possible? We were the only ones who knew aboot the first clue."Priam's voice was darker than the blackest crypt of hell, "Except for Diomede."

An angry silence enveloped them all. Diomede and Taskill had worked fast and found the second clue. Had they known about the third clue?

That was the desperate question that had to be answered, and fast.

Shane spoke up, "We have to send a spy to Taskill's headquarters."

They were surprised. This had been Shane's first spoken words since the battle, and his voice had changed due to a throat wound. It grated like slate, and pierced like a shard of glass.

Shane stared dully around, "Who can we send to the Nativists as a spy?"

Thornback had no answers for the otter; his sisters were staring fearfully at each other due to their brother's new voice.

Bethia was thinking of it, while Priam looked at his feet in wonderment.

There was no one they could possibly send. They were all known to be enemies of the Nativists and Walla was too obviously out of place. She would be unable to question anyone.

Maon suddenly looked up, "Mah father had a spy in the Nativists. Ah doan't know ef Macrath knew aboot et, but Ah could check an' see ef he's still there."

They waited for night to fall, and they went to the southernmost part of the city, which was conspicuous in its neutrality.

Maon guided them on, "Ef Ah remember correctly, then his younger sister was livin' here, an' we'd give messages to her for him."

The spy, whose name was Nathair, did indeed have a younger sister living by herself in a little home enriched by the fact that her brother was supposedly in the Nativist gang.

She was pleased to see Maon, as she had feared he had died trying to avenge his brother and father, "Is there something you need from him?"

Relieved that he was alive and well, Maon told her to ask him to find out about the Nativists' knowledge of the third clue.

Nathair's sister promised to deliver a message through them via Ben's shop. Thornback hesitated at mention of Ben's shop, but told himself that he would go warn him beforehand.

He went over early in the morning, just as the shop opened.

Ben was there, his shillelagh in his paw as usual, dressed in his fancy new clothes. He was still munching breakfast, which turned out to be some crispy shrimp, made to be nice and crunchy.

Ben gave a grin in greeting, "Something up?"

Thornback nodded, "There's going to be a customer that will slip you a piece of paper of information on the Nativists."

Ben's expression sagged, to put it in best words, and he frowned in annoyance, "Why are you doing this? Turning my shop into a spy network?"

Thornback suspected some indignation, and was ready for it, "Sorry Ben, but Maon had no other choice, and he picked your shop."

Ben was not appeased, "I'm aiming for the job of sheriff, Thorn. I don't want to be prejudiced in anyone's eyes; this is my chance, so don't blow it for me."

Thornback held up his paws in reluctance to fight, "I protested, but Maon countered, saying you owe him for the house."

Ben growled at that, muttered something about owing nothing, but he got the message, and promised to deliver the note when it came.

Thornback went back to the Black Rabbits headquarters, hoping for there to be some breakfast left.

Now would be the time to wait for a response from Nathair, whoever he was.

As he walked back, Thornback frowned at the thought of Ben. Was there something wrong with him as of late? He looked harassed, distracted by something else in his life.

Was he that determined to stay neutral, or was there something more to the story?

Thornback did not know of anything that could be happening to Ben, so he put this puzzlement out of his mind.

Outstanding news reached him when he came back in. Harmonia was pregnant, and Maon was delirious with joy.

Skipper and Jander were cooking up three pots of shrimp n' hotroot soup for celebration, and Priam was giving a blessing of good health to Harmonia and Maon in ritualistic Ursus and Aves prayer.

Earnan was calling for ale to be brought up, and there looked to be a fantastic party in the making. Maon was talking of inviting the heads of the Razor Blades, King's Own, Golden Eyes, and the Immortal Guard to attend, intending to renew the old alliances. The gangs had been relieved to see this sensible replacement to the hot-headed, grief-stricken Macrath.

Thornback congratulated the hare, and sat with the others at the table.

Shane alone was not affected by the cheering. He sat by himself before excusing himself to go wandering.

Shane was hit especially hard, and not all of it was the gruesome death of his sister. It was the brutality of the fighting that had driven him to some sort of shell shock. He seemed so out of touch with life and what he had once been. He seemed to be descending to a level of savage anger and cynicism.

Thornback realized he and June and Talia were the only one thinking of this.


	5. Chapter 5

4

Viggo, as it turned out, despised Judos.

The first time he noticed it was on the eve of Rosheen's pregnancy revealed, when Ætharr left to the doctor's room, still tenderly carrying his wife.

Agricola, a father of five, and Ferric, who wished to become a father, were both very happy for the Ealdor. The theigns, along with Jinn and the others, were sitting at the dinner table without Ætharr, each with their own say on the subject.

Gyras, the young theign that was growing up too fast, was glad that the Ealdor had a brace of heirs on the way, "We'll have a secure kingdom at last."

Jinn said nothing, merely grazing his eyes over the faces of the theigns, his expression betraying nothing whatsoever.

Ulric was curious about Rosheen's chances of surviving the birth. Such deaths were very rare, but Ulric felt that nothing should be overlooked in any situation.

Keld and Æđelstan sat subdued, knowing that some of the theigns were blatantly ignoring them. They had doubted Ætharr's chances, yet here he was, with a pregnant wife and a secure kingdom.

Judos sat next to Viggo, and offered a drink to the old weasel, "Have a drink sir?" He spoke respectively to the old weasel.

Viggo stared contemptuously at the otter, and then glanced at the drink. He hesitated for one second more, perhaps wondering if now was a good time to make a scene, and he took the drink, taking care not to touch the otter's paw, as though Judos carried an infectious disease.

Judos wondered what he had done to offend Viggo, but could think of nothing.

The next day, he decided to talk to Rojo about it. The marten had a high privilege as Captain, and commander of the Ealdor's bodyguard.

"I don't know what I've done to offend that weasel, but he hates me for some reason," Judos said in private.The marten clicked his teeth in amusement, "You're not the only one, Jude. He hates all the non-weasels of this new regime."

"What?"

"Ætharr brought in Iola, you, me, and two thirds of the Bodyguard in from other tribes. Viggo believes the Calador tribe must remain purely Calador weasel. Rosheen barely cuts it, and he doesn't like Ætharr's liking for the Falcarragh either."

So Viggo was a racist. Judos felt angry towards the weasel at this discovery. Rojo calmed him down, "Don't blame him too much, Jude. His generation were brought up to believe that the Calador troops were superior to all others."

Judos did blame him, for as all youth, he believed that Viggo could easily adapt to new change.

The next day, Ædall was gone. Worried and anxious, Judos went to speak to Ætharr, "Ædall is gone, Ætharr." He had never gotten used to calling Ætharr 'lord', or 'ealdor', or any other of those names.

Ætharr smiled, "I've sent him to the Loptrio tribe."

The Loptrio had the largest area of the vermin tribes, even after the recent land grabs of the Jeri, Vireo, and Calador. They were very clever, dangerous in their slyness. The Loptrio was said to have a network of spies throughout the tribes, and there was little telling of who could be a spy.

Ædall had been sent with an escort of two hundred Calador fighters to speak as the official ambassador of Calador.

Judos could not help but feel amazed at the number of weasels that Ætharr commanded in his army. Back in the rebellion- it puzzled Judos to think of it as a past thing, it having ended only a few days ago- Ætharr and the other leaders had been desperate for reinforcements. Now Ætharr commanded a total force of one thousand four hundred professional troops and twice as many farmers, fishers, smiths, and others that could be conscripted if necessary. It was remarkable how many troops he now commanded.

Ætharr filled Judos in on what was going on. It seemed that Oorlog had a relative in the Loptrio tribe who was also a wealthy lord, named Tiran. The chief of the Loptrio was a large fox named Cecilio and held power by approval of the other lords, known as the Factions. The Cecilio faction was the most powerful, and had the respect of the others.

Ædall had been sent to make peace with the Loptrio tribe, especially Tiran, who requested the upstart Ealdor's head on a plate.

Judos wondered if it would lead to another war.

Ætharr gave a curt shake of his head, "I'm going to prevent that as long as I can. The Loptrio tribe aren't used to open warfare for a long time, and the fyrd of Calador is superbly led. We could crush that tribe. But the Loptrio has recently employed several exiles that were once part of the Hunan and Millar tribes. And to top it all off, the Loptrio leaders have copied my ideas and have made an alliance with the Alcax tribe." The Alcax tribe occupied the lands to the north of the Loptrio tribe, therefore providing a possible risk in wartime. By securing peace with them, the Loptrio could take the warriors usually on guard there to the east, where they could invade both the Falcarragh and the Calador lands.

As of now, they dared not, for Ætharr was a legendary battle commander at a young age, and his troops were among the finest in the land. He had the alliances and support of Tiarnan of Falcarragh, Blackaxe of Jeri, Kazahley of Hunan, and Ibos of Vireo.

The Alcax tribe would serve as mercenaries for the Loptrio, whose warriors were good, but not enough to match against the Calador shield wall or the massive Jeri martens or the fearlessly savage Falcarragh. With the Hunan/Millar exiles, and the Alcax warriors, they stood a better chance.

"So what will Ædall offer them?" Judos was curious.

"My cousin will offer what I offer; four seasons of peace between us. This will allow trade to increase as the settlers open up to natural resources that the Millar and Hunan missed." He was referring to a new gold mine found in the Millar land, completely undisturbed, and guaranteed to last for generations. This new find had prompted Ætharr to make a momentous decision.

"Judos, I am going to issue a new currency of coins."

Judos was flabbergasted. Such an idea had not existed in living memory, and now, to issue coins in a bartering system. It was unthinkable, but brilliant if successful.

Ætharr grinned, and tossed him a coin, "Here's an example."

The coin was three centimetres in diameter, and about a millimetre thick. The coin was golden, gleaming as new coins always do. The design was very elaborate, and had the crest of Calador on the heads side. On the tails side, there was an image of Æthelly as one would see it from the north. It looked like it had been made by a professional artist, and Judos was adequately amazed.

"How did you do this?" He asked.

"I asked Jinn to give me a list of every goldsmith in Calador. I whittled the list down to the best of the best, and I paid them a visit."

Ætharr paused, remembering the looks of fear, surprise, and respect when he had arrived unexpectedly at their homes. The looks of panic when he told them that they were to be evicted to settle the new Millar lands were there too, despite the Ealdor's personal assistance and the prospect of a new life.

Taking them to the gold mine, Ætharr had instructed the ten or so smiths carefully, warning them that the direst consequences would happen if they cheated the Calador population. They would be heavily protected, they would be privileged, and they would craft coins that were impossible to counterfeit.

"Are you sure that your enemies couldn't counterfeit these coins?" Judos broke in.

Ætharr gave a leer of scorn, "Those bastards can't counterfeit these coins for three reasons. One, the elaborateness has no rival whatsoever. Two, even if they get past that, they will be unable to get my personal crest." He was referring to the crest of Calador, shaped out of a ring that the Ealdor wore: only one ring with that crest existed, and the Ealdor of Calador wore it from the time of his coronation to his resignation or death.

Judos was mollified, but still curious, "What's the third reason?"

"The third reason, Judos, is explained on a scale I have over there." He pointed to a small measuring scale on the table.

Judos did not hesitate, and dropped the coin on the scale. The weight meant little to him, but he could tell that it was supposed to be out of the ordinary.

Ætharr came to stand beside the otter, "That coin should weigh 0.7 grams if you take the scientific formula."

Judos had heard of that formula; but the coin weighed a whole gram, "Why is it a gram then?"

Ætharr picked up the coin, "I have ordered there to be a precise addition of two different metals, and only I know them all. The smiths know them too, of course, but only the most loyal and trustworthy of them-three of them- know how much of each has to be put in with the gold. The others take the mixed coin and craft the images on the coins."

Judos shook his head in amazement, "Are you sure that they're safe though?"

Ætharr nodded, "Jinn himself is living there; he supervises it personally, along with a score of his own agents. There's also a garrison of seventy of my best veterans, and they're training the younger levies- farmer boys and lumberjacks' sons- to remain warriors. Their fathers can't complain, because for them it's one less mouth to feed in large families." He was right; weasels had as many as twenty children. Jinn was to find these vast families in the new territory and then see if any of them wanted to join the army. They were then taken to the recruiting station and mining town now called Ætharia.

That gave Ætharr a problem; he needed a theign to hold the land held by the Millars, but the solution came quick. He divided the Millar lands into two; one of these halves bordered the marsh fortress that Ætharr had founded as a child.

Vogel, the weasel appointed to command the garrison, had irrigated a part of the swamp, and the population was growing quickly. Vogel was appointed theign of both the swampland and the half of the Millar lands that bordered the swamp. The other half, containing the large gold mine, was put under the command of Burg, who had been with Ætharr and Ferric and Agricola from the beginning. Burg was a wiry weasel that could make his own decisions and take care of a region, but who had no ambitions whatsoever to rise higher.

That left Sagleus and Lanvor as the other survivors from Ællear's ambush. Sagleus wanted only to be a soldier in life, so Ætharr had turned to Lanvor. Lanvor had made himself a hero after slaying the Millar king Grodellflak and his whole bodyguard single-handed. The rugged weasel was brave, very strong, wonderfully coordinated, and did not fear death. Ætharr had ensured that the one thing Lanvor _did_ fear was being killed by his lord. It meant that he would hold Lanvor's loyalty to the death, and in the seasons to come, Ætharr would value Lanvor more and more.

He had talked to Lanvor like he was Ætharr's best friend, his most valued soldier. He had been generous with Lanvor, and had asked him to serve him with complete faith. Lanvor had obliged willingly; he was cared for by his lord, he was valued, and he would not break the trust he had forged with Ætharr of Calador.

Judos disliked how Lanvor treated Ætharr like a god, that the Ealdor was the only person whom he feared. He knew better than to speak about it though.

He was also concerned with managing his lands properly. He learned that there were three major towns, one of which contained his quarters, along with other odd little settlements across the countryside.

Judos had initially been hesitant about entering his new home, for he felt that it would be embarrassing to be served by a multitude of servants. Judos had never been served by others, and the thought seemed strange.

When he had arrived, he had found out, to his astonishment and relief, that the household supported only a cook and a solitary butler. The two of them were the only ones in the house apart from Judos himself.

As it turned out, he was immensely grateful for their company. They took to their new lord easily but not extravagantly, as servants would do. However, they did give Judos information on his lands, who was a good tenant, who was in need of more time due to bad harvest, and other such valuable things. Judos was grateful to both of them, and in turn they were faithful.

The theigns were a mixed lot. He really liked Ferric and Horal. He had wept when he had heard of old Aletorix' death at the Battle of Verfluchtes Land, for the old weasel had been a kind and wise teacher. His successor, Agricola, was a very likeable weasel and Judos had welcomed his promotion (he had heard of the battle where Agricola had saved Ætharr's life). Gyras was very smart and able, but Judos was a bit put off at the amount of maturity in someone who was younger even than Judos and Ætharr. Keld and Æđelstan had sour attitudes and cared little for the new theigns. Cynefrid and Ulric were the most powerful theigns, and Judos trusted them both. Burg and Vogel were the newest additions, and while Judos had never met Vogel, he liked Burg well enough.

The young otter hoped he could live up to the expectations of a good theign, and he knew that all the theigns and all the warriors of Calador would be necessary in the next few seasons of unease. It could lead to war, to peace, or disaster.


	6. Chapter 6

5

Adisa knelt and prayed with the other Brothers and Sisters of the Abbey. However, he prayed to his old Gods and his ancestors for guidance. He prayed for courage and help against the forces that destroyed his family.

He was just starting his new life, hoping to find inner peace with himself and his anger. He had been angry for far too long, he knew that now. He was still angry to some extent, but he had once been bitter and quick-tempered. He had developed an addiction to ale and wine, as well as the drug that he still smoked occasionally. But then an event had happened which he hoped never to forget. Since then, he had not touched a drop of alcohol for several seasons, and he was proud of himself for that. The drug he smoked was not a dependency, merely an occasional habit he had long learned to control.

To think how far he had come since only a short time. He would have stayed a bitter drunk for the rest of his life if he had not come to a particular town out past the Golden Plains and heading near the south cliffs...

_Adisa growled as he pulled his hood over his face to hide his peculiarity. He drank at the ale in front of him as though he was dying of thirst, trying to drown the anger and the hurt and the sorrow._

_He heard muttering, and when he looked up he saw a few creatures were pointing at him and talking quietly.__Rage boiled up; it was like this in every town he went into. He was too different not to get noticed, and he ended up in fights over his uniqueness that he had once appreciated. He wished he was not a civet; he wished he was a weasel or a squirrel or a hare or something ordinary. He had listened to discrimination so long he had begun to believe its cruel messages._

_Hoping that nothing would happen if he looked away, he turned to his drink and tried to ignore the words that he half-heard._

_The group were all younger than him and assumed that he was a decrepit drunkard, and they themselves had had a drink._

_They stepped forward in a challenging way, waiting for him to look up at them._

_But Adisa was tired, and he didn't want to fight; he tried to restrain himself at times, but they always spurred and goaded him on to fight. Why were strangers treated so cruelly? It made him angry to think of his misfortune; where were his gods, his ancestors to watch over him? It was all talk and mumbo-jumbo of the past._

_One of the creatures leaned over his pint and sniffed in distaste. He pushed it over, his friends laughing at the alcohol pouring freely on the table._

_Adisa felt rage come onto him and he braced himself to spring at his bullies and make them pay for the insults._

_But then his anger evaporated. He could suddenly not feel angry at these animals, for he suddenly saw himself as he truly was; an old drunk stranger that looked like he wanted a fight._

_He saw himself in a mirror that was hanging on the wall. Mirrors were very, very rare, and this town must have had the only one for miles and miles around._

_For the first time in seasons, Adisa viewed his appearance. He saw an ugly creature due to drink and a ragged lifestyle. His face was sunken, and his eyes horribly bloodshot. He recalled times in his drunken stupors when he had been unable to see properly. It suddenly scared him horribly to see himself this way. He had seen his reflection before, but the water had a way of blurring the fine details of a face, and now he saw all those omitted details in full force._

_This is what creatures see when they see me, he though miserably, and he was completely unaware of the other animals around him. His fur, normally sleek, was lank; Adisa could also see that he was no longer in good shape after seasons of drinking and fighting._

_He needed to reshape himself properly, or else he would die of the deadly alcoholic effects of drinking too much. His appearance shamed him so much that he turned away in embarrassment._

_The young lads, seeing this movement, thought it was incredibly funny. They turned away from him and walked out, still laughing at the civet._

_Adisa placed a coin on the table and left, for towns like this required payment. He walked out of the tavern, wondering what to do now._

_The answer came quick to him; the image of his appearance began to haunt him, and he realised what he had to do._

_He went into the dark forests near the town and assembled twigs for a fire, as well as some herbs and a bit of the drug that he kept with him._

_That assembled, he went find a nesting bird. Alcoholic life slowed him down but he had not lost his cunning for hunting._

_Bringing back two live birds, Adisa took them to the fire, and still holding onto them, lit the wood and herbs. Flames arose, with scented smoke filling Adisa's mind. The addition of the drug had always been an idea of his own, and he always used some for every sacrificial prayer._

_Taking the birds, he killed them both to make the ritualistic sacrifice to his ancestors._

_He knelt on the ground, calling to his dead parents, his brothers and sisters, and the ancient relatives of his family. He called upon the gods, those whom he had ridiculed and detested._

_"Forgive me, and come to me to show me the way!" He appealed with all his heart, for the prayer had brought back many memories of happiness as well as grief. It was those memories of happiness that made the later memories even worse, and crueller than before._

_Suddenly, he saw something that he had never seen before. Later on, people would suggest that it had been the burning drug, but he had always used the drug in his fires afterwards and never saw anything like what he saw then. He was certain of the gods' message till his dying day._

_His father and mother stood before him, staring with sadness at him. Adisa did not blame them; he had failed them as a son, and had failed also to save them._

_"Son,' his father spoke with a heavy accent from their ancestral home, 'do not continue to blame yourself for what happened. You were betrayed, as were we."_

_Tears flowed down Adisa's face, "I could have discovered it before it happened! I could have led you to safety as well!"_

_"No, Adisa, you couldn't have!' his mother called out in her equally thick accent, 'We do not blame you, and never did, but you blamed yourself. It is a miracle that you even escaped!"_

_"And look what I have done with that miracle.' Adisa growled miserably, 'I am a miserable drunk."_

_Adisa's father looked sad, "Son, you can turn yourself around yet if you can only forgive yourself!"_

_Adisa bowed his head, "That could only happen if I put your killer to justice. If only I knew where he was!"_

_"My son, if finding the traitor is the only way you can feel good about yourself, I will try to help,' his mother had said, 'to find our murderer, you must find him."_

_Adisa looked up due to his mother's emphasis on the word 'him'. He saw a mouse in armour, wielding a large sword._

_The fur on Adisa's neck rose as he heard a loud voice, "Adisa! Avenge me! Avenge us all!" It was the voice of his eldest brother, who had always been temperamental and bitter over their fate. He had died resisting to the last, and torn to pieces for his efforts as his family died around him. For Adisa, it was the last straw._

_From that day on, he refused to eat anything except vegetables and fruits from the trees. He also occasionally ate almond nuts and wilder sorts as well. Partly due to his own kind of penance, and partly due in an attempt to get into shape, Adisa kept this diet up for six seasons, training his body as much to its original endurance, strength, and agility as he could. At the end of that period, he went back to the same town with the tavern._

_None recognized the high-held head that ducked into the building. A few looked up when he came in, but it was impulse, and they looked back down again._

_He ordered a glass of water, and looked at his reflection in the mirror._

_The face that looked back at him was healthy and proud. The eyes shone with their former lustre, and his teeth had turned a shade whiter. He had lost much weight, gained new muscle, and looked younger than his age for the first time in seasons._

_Happiness swilled in his gut, but he choked back laughter of triumph. He had put himself forward to redeem himself, not to be vain of his appearance._

_He turned to look at the waitress, and tossed her another coin, "A tip for you, and also if I may, I would like to ask you a question."_

_The waitress shrugged, "If I can answer it."_

_"Have you ever heard of a mouse in armour, wielding a great sword?"_

_The waitress choked on laughter, "What?"_

_She was oblivious, then. Adisa asked others, but got no answer._

_He left the town, never to return again. One day, he'd find the mouse, and the traitor. He would put his soul at rest and peace. It would be his redemption, his sign that he could bury the past, and move on at long last..._

'Aid me, father, mother, for I have found the one who killed you all.' Adisa prayed as he listened to the chanting of the monks, their voices creating a chilling atmosphere.

After prayers, the civet went to the Cellars, to find Arly Punto, his new friend. Arly was a slow thinker, and a lover of his ale, but he was a competent creature and physically powerful. The hedgehog spoke with a thick accent, which became thicker under influence of alcohol.

Presently, he was sober, but sipping at a bowl of nut brown beer. He was writing new labels on the barrels.

"Ay, if it ain't my ole pal, Disa! How you doin', mate?" The hedgehog had taken a liking to the civet, but was still doubtful on the conflict concerning Varrus.

Adisa smiled at Alonzo, who preferred the name Arly, "I'm feeling better now, Arly, thank you for asking. Is this tiring work?"

Arly waved his paws diffidently in the air, "Meh, it has to be done, know what I'm saying?"

Adisa picked up some clean labels, "I would like to help."

In no time, the two of them were hard at work, copying down faded letters and transferring them to good copy.

Most of the time the work was done in silence, until Arly raised the subject he did not understand, "Listen, Disa, you want to tell me what the hell's goin' on with you and Father Varrus?"

Adisa hesitated, "I don't think so, Arly. At least not yet; maybe when the time is better."

Arly shook his head frustratingly, "I always hear that from you, you know that? Here am I, wonderin' which of you is right, and I can't help but feel like I'm being torn apart between you two."

Adisa froze during this monologue; it was the longest speech Arly had ever made; the hedgehog's skill was in his paws rather than in his voice.

He turned to the hedgehog, "Varrus and I grew up together."

Arly was absolutely silent, all work forgotten as he finally listened to the beginning of the story that had been plaguing his mind.

Adisa continued, "I was in a colony of civets...

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Varrus, Father Abbott of Redwall Abbey, moved through the corridors of his Abbey like a caged animal; restless and agitated. What was he to do against the threats of Adisa and the murder of Slade?

Slade the Sane, a brain damaged decrepit squirrel that had known Varrus, had been killed gruesomely, and there were a number of visitors in the Abbey at the time. Of the suspects, one peculiar female squirrel had confessed that Slade was her father, and that he had abandoned her mother. For Varrus, it was she that had done the deed, and now he feared Elfwin. She had not just come to kill Slade, but also to bring vengeance to him, Varrus thought desperately. How much did she know? Had Slade confided in his illegitimate daughter? Eliminate her, Varrus thought, and his problems were halved. But how to do it, Varrus wondered. If he sentenced her to death now, then most would be against it and would reject the harsh sentence.

The trouble was that Elfwin had not broken the rules of her parole, as had none of the others. Varrus wished Adisa would be caught doing something, but the civet was a very kind creature according to some of the monks and nuns.

Varrus bumped into Verso, a young, strong-willed mole that was popular among the younger residents of Redwall for his good nature and snappy humour.

"Burr, pardon Oi, Father." Verso knew when to be polite and humble.

Varrus smiled kindly upon the mole, "And where are you going, Verso?"Verso shrugged, "Oi be goin' to see moi friend Arly an' Adisa."

Varrus blinked, but he made sure that that was the only reaction he made, "Ah yes, well I was on my way to request something from Arly myself. I'll come along with you."

Verso shrugged indifferently, and the two of them went towards the cellars.

The silence was very awkward, at least to Verso. Varrus was too absorbed in his own thoughts. These three were acquainted with each other; what was going on between them? He had rarely seen Adisa and Verso together, so Arly was the link between civet and mole.

They approached the cellars; Varrus' heart was surprisingly beating fast as he approached the door.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Adisa stopped talking, hearing footsteps. He did not care who it was, he did not want anyone to know what had gone on.

He turned to Arly, who was riveted with his astonishment at what he had heard so far.

"Alonzo! Look busy!" He whispered harshly.

Arly would have sang opera and juggled in the state he was in. He needed an authority to manage him: he could not manage making all his own decisions sometimes.

Arly and Adisa turned and bent down to continue their work just as the door opened.

"" "" "" "" ""

Varrus allowed Verso to open the door, and entered first.

Adisa was peering at an old label on a barrel, writing down what he saw on the wood. Arly had his back turned to the door, and was in the process of lifting a barrel up on the table.

Verso ran over and attempted to help the hedgehog, but Arly needed no help.

Adisa turned to give a look at Varrus; his new oaths commanded him to be courteous, and he had always done so. He nodded humbly to his Abbott, giving Varrus a streak of satisfaction; his time would come.

Varrus looked away from the civet and watched the hedgehog guzzle down some ale, "Alonzo, I must ask you something." He paused, thinking of what to say.

Arly turned, almost reluctantly, and said, "What is it, Father?"

Varrus' paws froze, and he spoke automatically, "I would like you to abstain from serving damson wine tonight, if you please: it is not the right season."

Arly nodded faintly, and turned to drink more.

Varrus nodded his goodbye and departed, fear in his heart.

Arly had never been a subtle creature; his face read what he was thinking all the time. He had looked at Varrus as though he had seen a new side of him. Adisa was talking about the past!

Varrus shivered, and realised with both horror and determination, what he had to do to eliminate Elfwin with the Abbey's consent, and quieten Adisa at the same time.

It disappointed Varrus, but he knew that it had to end. He could no longer shuffle away from the past under an Abbott's robe; he had to remove those that knew his past.

And he had to act fast and cautiously, for if this went wrong, he would be condemned to the punishment he had feared as a child and still feared with a passion.


	7. Chapter 7

6

Ædall returned home at the head of half of what had been sent out to the Loptrio tribe. They came in proudly, however, and if they had lost half their troops in battle then they didn't show it. Most whispered 'pride' and knew that no amount of pride would hide the heavy losses.

It was Ædall that made it obvious to everyone. His face was looking quite dour, and looked at no one as he walked at the head of his troops.

Ætharr came down towards them from the hall, along with Rojo, and four bodyguards. Lanvor (Who had received special treatment to show he was valued for his work as a soldier) was away in his own little hovel where he lived alone.

Ætharr came down in formal manner, whereas if it had been before, he would have run down to his cousin in happiness. He wore no cloak, despising such things, and wore instead a leather jerkin and a plain white tunic. He carried his hand axe in his paw, and his long axe on his back. He was an Ealdor ready for war if necessary, and many found solace in the young weasel.

He approached his cousin, and many whispered at the remarkable similarity between them, almost as though they were twins. They had that same grown-up expression on their faces.

"Bad news' Ædall answered a question that had been silently given, 'Cecilio holds power with the help of Oorlog's cousin Tiran. The other three Factions could have taken Cecilio, but Tiran tips the scale back to Cecilio's favour. And Tiran wants vengeance for the humiliation his family's suffered."

Looking at Ætharr, Ædall might as well have just told him the time, "And the other three?"

"They don't want open war with you, because they think they'll lose. They have stated they won't fight against you openly, but they will aid Cecilio and Tiran in other ways. The two Factions don't care, they have the Alcax mercenaries and exiles to aid them."

Ætharr smiled, "I suppose I will be spied upon by the other three Factions?"

His cousin nodded his agreement, "Summon Jinn, cousin, and tell his agents to be on the alert for suspicious characters, even in Jinn's own system."

Ætharr tested his axe, "Jinn needs no warning. He has spies in the Loptrio Factions and the Alcax wilderness, or so I'm told."

He looked at the troops behind Ædall, "Was there a battle?" To the crowd, he was stating the obvious, but all were astonished by Ædall's shaking of his head.

"I left them to patrol the Loptrio borders of our lands. Tiarnan and a full hundred Falcarragh met up with us and joined in the talks. He left with us after the Factions turned us down."

Ætharr looked faintly annoyed, "Not even a season's peace? Must my children be born in time of war?"

Ædall surprised yet again, "Oh I got two seasons' peace from them, but that's just from open war. You can bet that Cecilio wanted that time to negotiate with the other three factions to join his side properly. I told them about Rosheen as you requested, but are you sure that won't make her a target?"

Ætharr looked unafraid, but lowered his voice to a whisper, "It most certainly will, but there are forty-odd loyal bodyguards in my household. They shall guard her with their lives, and I also have Lanvor."

Ædall nodded in agreement; he knew the large weasel well, and knew also that Ætharr was setting up a relationship of absolute trust with the weasel, "You don't want to give him to Jinn?" Rojo heard none of this discussion, for he was out amongst the crowd, combing for any spies.

"Not a chance. I trust Jinn with my life, but Lanvor-"

He was interrupted by a scream.

Rojo emerged with a struggling weasel in his paws. His face was set hard, and he held the captive harder.

"My lord, this weasel was pulling a knife out at you just now."

The weasel looked wild-eyed at his situation; guilt was written all over his face.

Ætharr was mildly surprised, but at the same time felt an urge to laugh: what an amateur! Surely the Loptrio could do much better than that.

'Of course they can,' he thought to himself, 'but they don't want you to think that...'

He turned to the crowd, soldiers and civilians alike "See how the Loptrio lull us into false security with stupid attempts at assassinations. Beware the trickery of a hostile foe!"

He wondered if that was too preachy, but knew it was too late to take it back. He went to go to the hall, "Rojo! Prepare my armour and rucksack. I will go to the frontier myself."

The crowd murmured with approval. They liked the Ealdor to be a weasel of action, and prepared to fight for his people.

Rojo and Lanvor were summoned alone to Ætharr's presence. Each received his own private order.

Rojo handed Ætharr a brace of throwing hatchets and a full sack of rations, "Shall I come with you, my lord?" He was utterly devoted to Ætharr after the weasel's slaying of Oorlog.

Ætharr shook his head, "No, I am going merely to tour the frontier, not start a war. It will give me a good reason to see the rest of my lands. Send Sagleus and nine others to go with me, but you and the others must guard my wife. I will not have anything happen to her."

"Nor will I lord." Rojo was determined, and bowed his way out.

Lanvor was then summoned, and he knelt down to the Ealdor. Ætharr began inserting his axes and throwing hatchets into his belts.

"Lanvor, I need you to guard my family with your life. But make sure that none know you work directly for me. You are the secret trump card in this game, and I trust you to follow my orders carefully."

Lanvor bowed as far down as he possibly could, and nodded his agreement and respect of this honour.

Ætharr pulled the large weasel up, and clapped him on the back, "Head out the back, I will distract the crowd."

Lanvor gave another nod, and walked out without making a single sound.

Ætharr emerged with his entourage looking like a great hero. He held the sacred banner of Calador, which had been in his possession for a long time even before his coronation.

The troops under Ædall were to return to their homes, but Ætharr recruited a fresh complement of a hundred and fifty warriors from the countryside to replenish the loss.

So began the Ealdor's first tour of his lands. He visited his theigns, listened to appeals, and approved building projects to begin, paid for with the new currency that was already being introduced.

As an administrator, he found a natural talent, although he liked the warrior part of the Ealdor's job much better. Nevertheless, he forced himself to visit every corner of Calador in order to show himself to the people.

Villages met him with enthusiasm, for he had fought for most of his life against the oppressing usurper Ælfer, who had let the savage Millars run wild in Calador. Some of the theigns met his arrival with a slight hesitation; Although Ætharr left a hundred of his troops near the border, he still had a large entourage to be sheltered.

Ætharr noticed frequently that his cousin kept to himself most of the time. Ædall had been a party animal before, but still a good leader. Now he had quieted down like a fire that had been blazing away for hours.

He wondered what Ædall was thinking of, but Ædall would never be coaxed into talking about it. Either something important came up, or the conversation was changed.

There were no assassination attempts on Ætharr throughout the grand tour, but the Ealdor felt very suspicious of strange-looking weasels.

However, he marched on, determined not to be solely guided by fear or doubt. It was hard to bear the title easily, he realized, and memories of his father haunted him grievously. Several times he had awoken in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, and Rosheen would give either wake up and comfort him or continue sleeping.

Ætharr was also apprehensive about becoming a father. Would he be kind, cruel, judgemental? Would he have sons, daughters, or a mixed litter of both sexes? Somehow it seemed better to just leave that business of childbirth to Rosheen and the wise women. An old superstition was that males must not be in the room during a birth, but opinion on that was varied.

One feeling that arose in Ætharr on the tour was happiness to be home. Calador was familiar terrain to him, for he had often been brought along with his father throughout Calador. The trees, the rivers, the patches of plain, the farms, the rock... even the air was distinctly Calador.

The last stop on the tour was Judos' theignship. Ætharr was interested to see how his friend was coming along. He sent a messenger ahead to warn the otter.

Ætharr's arrival was welcomed warmly by some, hostile by a few. These had been loyal supporters of Eadwig, who had heard of Ætharr's dealing with the traitors. These few were silenced by those who wished to show that they were with the Ealdor above any theign.

He thumped Judos on the back when the otter came to greet him, "How goes the land?"

Judos rolled his eyes. He looked tired but well, "Your new currency is giving a lot of trouble with the old system, Ætharr." This news wasn't new to the Ealdor, and he shrugged it off with the surety of a youthful change.

"I mean how are you handling the title of theign, Judos?"

Judos thought about it, and answered, "It varies. Sometimes it's unbearable and I have to oversee a dozen things before I eat breakfast! Other times I have hours to myself."

Ætharr laughed, a sight that was not happening so frequently nowadays, "Well, here's some news that will bring a new perspective into your position."

At the feast in the Ealdor's honour, Judos and his lieutenants were informed of the news in the west. Judos assured Ætharr that he would calculate the number of professional warriors and fyrd conscripts in his territory.

Ædall, most unusually, stayed sober and ate little more than was needed. He was acting almost in the opposite way he normally behaved. Ætharr shrugged it off, deciding that his cousin was bored and needed to spend his energy in a more fruitful way.

Of course, there was peace to be kept with Cecilio and his allies, so that left few enemies to fight. As of late there had been a new problem.

Groups of hares were coming along the boundaries of the vermin clans, and there were tales of skirmishes with the western tribes. Ætharr did not worry about the hares- in fact he relished the thought of his foes oppressed- and he turned his eye to the south-east, which was composed of a few small tribes that had been viciously raided in the past by Millars. He wondered if he could impose his authority on them in order to pay tribute.

They were making a nuisance of themselves anyway, trying to take some land from the Millar lands, which had been divided up between Calador and Vireo. Ibos had done little in that part of the country, and it was sparsely populated, as opposed to the large number of Calador weasels Ætharr had evicted and moved into their new land to settle it.

While Ætharr was still at Judos' theignship, a messenger from Ibos came with a complaint. He needed help to drive back the interfering tribes.

Some spat their contempt, for Ibos was handling this all wrong, so why should they be sent to rectify his mistake?

Ætharr wanted to remain allies with the Vireo tribe, so he duly promised a force to be sent against these invaders. He called for volunteers wanting to fight, and a few of the veterans of his rebellion returned to scrap.

Ædall was appointed the leader of the volunteer force, and he dutifully left with about seventy troops behind him.

Judos watched the retreating column of soldiers marching away to skirmishing, "Is that all you're going to send?" He asked Ætharr.

Ætharr shook his head, "Burg and Vogel have orders to help my cousin. Even if they had the sense to combine together, those little south-eastern tribes are too few in number to take on Calador. I shall head there soon and I will offer that Calador become their Protectorate." He meant that the tribes would be protected and partly ruled by the Calador tribe.

Judos looked at his friend, and saw a cold smile playing along the edges of Ætharr's face. The weasel was truly enjoying expanding his grasp to intimidate those around him. He loved the power he had, and knew how to use for the good of his people, but Judos felt a little shiver go down his back as he saw the gleam of ambition in Ætharr's eyes.

Was this just to blow off steam and excitement, Judos wondered, or was this a foretaste of the rule that Ætharr promised Calador. Of course, the Caladors themselves would hardly object, for he was doing it supposedly in their best interests, and they feared another civil war. The other tribes were either in alliance with Calador, or they were trying to stay neutral, or they were declaring Ætharr a disturbance. Of course those enemies of Calador promised strife, so it looked like Ætharr was the best choice.

'But,' Judos wondered faintly, 'was he?'


	8. Chapter 8

7

Priam's first taste of gang warfare came on a warm evening with few clouds in the sky.

It was a perfect night for a raid: even if there was no war going on between the gangs, there would always be minor skirmishes between the hot-blooded of the bunch. Hares were like that, so there were fights even without a formal gang war.

Such was the case with what happened that night. Thornback, Priam, and three of Priam's friends were hanging around on the entrance of the village square which contained both Ben's shop, and the headquarters of the Black Rabbits.

Thornback had tried not to laugh as he equipped four companions with typical weapons that the Black Rabbits used. He himself had been stunned at the crudity of the warfare when he had first fought in a gang war.

Priam carried a hatchet and a club, the first time he had carried a weapon. The others were the most hot-headed of his friends and carried more creative weapons such as the brass knuckles, the single-handed scythe, and the length of chain connected to a spiked ball.

They had been hesitant about using their weapons, but Thornback assured them that raids happened rarely, and that if they did, they intended to harm innocent civilians. Priam became angrier at the Nativists, and swore he would punish those criminals severely.

Thornback wondered if Priam would have to fight in a gang battle; he hoped not, for the first time he had done so it had been a horrible experience. Thornback often wondered if he would be able to do it again.

He did not get to make the decision tonight. A band of eight hares thought they could light a few houses on fire and give their enemies a bloody nose. They had not been expecting Priam, Thornback, and the other three hares.

Thornback, when on adventures with Ben and Ebs, had been captured by the Painted Ones. One of the rats had been carrying a long spear that had obviously been taken. Its hilt was strong wood and inlaid with gold. The blade was sharp, shiny, and inlaid with more gold images. Thornback fancied this was his new weapon for life, and he carried it frequently even in times of peace.

Thornback's spear took the first casualty running the hare through and battering at his head with a brick held in Thornback's paw.

Priam yelled, partly in fear, partly in anger as he saw two of them hurl torches at the houses. He attacked them both at once, aiming to injure rather than kill. His three friends took on the others, yelling and screaming.

Soon, hares woke up, due to both the light of the torches and the screams. A few came forward to assist the blue-banded Black Rabbits. Others ran to extinguish the flames while they were still small.

Thornback felt the Bloodwrath consume him. He thought of Mungan, cruelly murdered from behind, of Ebs, slaughtered also by Taskill. He thought of how Peggy had screamed as she fell. He wanted to avenge their memories, and the thought made it easier to cut down those that provoked the fight.

The fight was soon over, but for those that had participated, it had seemed longer.

The surviving hares, about three, fled the scene in utter panic and humiliation. Two of Priam's friends were wounded, and Thornback had received a gash down his shoulder.

Looking for Priam, Thornback saw he was standing over the body of a hare he had killed, shaking and weeping.

Thornback, despite his wound, went to stand by Priam. The hare was tall, strong, able, but had a tender heart. He had never laid violence upon any creature in his life before now, and he was stunned at what he had done.

Priam gestured at the young face, "He's my age, and now he'll never get any older!"

Thornback didn't know what to say. How to describe his own moments of panic in battle, of getting that sick feeling of watching such brutal violence. Despite being a Salamandastron badger, the gang battle had been his first engagement.

He now realised it had led him to gain a Bloodwrath, a rage for an enemy that would not cease until the enemy was defeated.

That enemy was Taskill; the tall, merciless slayer of Mungan, Ebs, and Macrath. He was a cruel but efficient leader of the percentage of hares that wanted to retain their independence. His gang was called the Nativists, and they liked their power enough to fight those that wanted the monarchy to return to bring order to the corrupt city. His enemies were the Black Rabbits, led now by Maon MacMungan, and he also had Priam's younger brother Diomede.

This was the danger, for Diomede could claim the kingship for himself and then Taskill would effectively become the leader of the Highlands. Priam, the rightful heir, was now forced to compete with his lazy, selfish younger brother.

Priam overcame his initial shock, and decided to see to his friends. Thornback leaned on his spear, and watched the last of the fires being stamped out.

The next day, he decided to see Ben, the mercenary-turned-storeowner.

He went to the entrance of the store, which was at the top of a large rock slope upon which a series of stairs had been carved out.

On the door was a sign,

_'Out for the moment, be back shortly,_

_Benjamin_

Thornback choked on laughter. Ben had never used his full name before opening a store. He decided to go find the raccoon at the neighbourhood's market.

He headed out into the neighbourhood square, where there were a series of little stalls set up for the day, their owners out of their houses and selling their wares.

Thornback gave a look of longing at the hot loaves of bread, the fresh apples, but he had brought nothing with which to barter.

He suddenly saw a top hat among the ears of the hares. Another was farther back in the distance as some kind of bodyguard.

Anger welled in Thornback's heart as he weaved forward to the hat, his spear held ready; he nudged his way past hares of both sexes and all ages. He ducked behind two stalls and weaved through the lanes to get near the Nativist.

He moved faster, until he was right by the hare, only a stall's corner away.

Leaning forward, Thornback peered around the corner, and saw that it was Taskill himself, talking with a familiar face.

Ben.

Thornback almost fell forward in surprise at this. Ben, talking with Taskill! And this was no chance meeting, for Ben rarely went out at working hours.

No, this was an agreed meeting, arranged by the two of them. Unless he had been forced to come? There were other hares in top hats shadowing them both, so Ben may have been there against his will.

Looking at it though, Thornback realised that was highly unlikely. Ben couldn't have been carried away without making a struggle, and he was able to take on three hares by himself long enough to get help.

He didn't look unwilling to be there either: he just looked emotionless. He never opened up easily, Thornback had realised a long time ago; he had opened up to Ebs and Thornback out of necessity and gratitude for helping him escape the Painted Ones.

Taskill spoke, but Thornback could not hear what he had said. The tall hare walked away, flanked by his two stooges.

Ben turned to leave as well, heading back to his shop. Thornback was tempted to catch him before doing so, but decided that he would be too spooked, so he tailed the raccoon back to the shop.

Ben went inside, taking the sign off his door. Thornback counted silently to twenty before walking up the steps into the shop.

Ben looked up at him as he polished his shillelagh and the countertop, "How are you, Thornback?"

Thornback was troubled: should he immediately attack Ben with an accusation, or not? Should he see if he lies about it?

Ben gave a humourless smile, "Taskill saw you."

Thornback was bowled over; he was completely unprepared now. Ben had turned the tables of the discussion.

Ben resumed polishing his shillelagh, "Don't worry, it's nothing. I'm neutral, remember?"

Thornback was not so easily reassured, "Ben, you're also a mercenary."

He gave a private smile, "You know that it would be untrue, you know that I would be a liar, if I was to say to you... I was such a sword for hire.' He was amused at that, and pointed at the fireplace, "Come on Thornback, light my fire." This made him laugh harder.

Thornback shrugged, sadly accepting that he could only accept Ben's word for it. Bending over to pile the logs, he wondered if Taskill had ordered the raid from last night.

Ben suddenly called his name.

Thornback turned around, "What is it, Ben?"

Ben had lost amusement in his face, "The spy of yours found something out. Diomede and Taskill read the second clue and realised that the third clue was also in the swamp, but you found it before them."

Thornback breathed a sigh of relief, "Anything else?"

Ben shook his head, "That was all."

Thornback found that odd but decided not to complain, "Thanks Ben. Thanks for that."

Ben flinched as the door opened and a customer came in, "Oh don't thank me, Thorn."

The badger grinned, and went to see Priam and Maon about this piece of information.


	9. Chapter 9

8

Korari grinned at Leaflock as the hare parried rapidly against Korari's wooden blade. The Mountain Regiment was starting to use the wooden blades, which meant that they would be able to train with the real swords in a few seasons and not have a bit of trouble with them. The wooden swords were twice the weight of the gladiums.

Roaveen was not saying anything as he paced through the fighting pairs of the Regiment. His eyes never stopped moving, but the rest of the upper half of his body was very stiff. Arms clasped behind his straight back, he looked like he could be supervising an exam as much as a training group.

Ensigns Ormond and Sophus were also patrolling, but were far more active and social than their commander. Sophus, the educated fop, gave advice out freely, though his large obscure synonyms for the common words (due to his high education level) made him more of a liability. Luckily, Ormond gave out a good translation of Sophus' words, thanks to seasons of friendship.

Their friendship had started out interestingly. Ormond was a very physically strong hare, and even as a young leveret, he had been very tough. He had hung out with three other hares, who had been physically talented.

Sophus had never been such a strong leveret, though he had buried his head into books of the Salamandastron archives/library. It had given him a great wealth of book smarts, plus much knowledge of science, math, language, and history.

That meant little to the strong leverets. Ormond's gang had pestered and bullied Sophus, but Ormond had always felt sad at this. He didn't like it, but could never find a way to stand up to his friends properly.

He had confided to Sophus in secret for advice; it was very surreal when explained, that a reluctant bully asks his victim for a way to end the harassment. But Ormond had been that way as a youngster.

One day, Ormond and his gang began picking on Sophus after class (all leverets of Salamandastron were given at least a certain level of education, and they chose whether to pursue school or the Long Patrol).

Sophus put up a brave defence, cursing them with big words he had learned from reading. Realising that he was mocking them, Ormond's friends decided to end this resistance through force.

That was when Ormond turned sides for good. He engaged the two hares holding Sophus down in a flurry of hard punches. Sophus, for his part put the third hare in an impressive headlock that Ormond had taught him only two days before.

So began a long friendship and exchange of skills. Ormond learned things from Sophus' mighty encyclopaedia of a mind, and Sophus gained muscle from Ormond's physical games or training.

So they were now entering adulthood, each with their skills, plus a bit of the other side of the scale, gained from their partnership.

Korari loved the pair of them like they were his cousins. Roaveen was always so distant with him, and try as Korari might, Roaveen never clicked with his younger brother.

He turned to the hares for friendship: Leaflock, the social leveret that idolized Roaveen; Sophus and Ormond, the unlikely duo; Major Jackers and Colonel Seahawk, battle-scarred campaigners with much to teach Korari.

Korari glanced at his older brother in sadness: he wished that his brother wouldn't act so cold around him. What had he done? He enjoyed the Mountain Regiment's company, along with Roaveen's as well.

He just wished that Roaveen enjoyed the company as much.

Korari suddenly felt as though someone was watching him. He looked around over his shoulders. Most of the hares were still training, and none looked at him.Korari shrugged, and continued to fight with Leaflock in his training.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

It had been Roaveen's idea to send the veterans of his troops against a few skirmishes. The vermin clans to the south east of them were always being an annoyance, and Roaveen ignored the fact that it was their land. He hated to give an inch to those scum. Vermin, he felt, were dirt beneath his feet, and he would not tolerate them to rise beyond anything short of a nomadic, short-lived existence.

He had enjoyed attacking the vermin; as though they could appear civilized. 'Bastards and whoresons every one of them,' he thought to himself whenever the topic of vermin were brought up.

He had glanced at his brother in the corner of his eye. Korari was planning something, he was sure, so he would think of ways to prevent the Regiment from becoming more loyal to Korari than him.

That was where Krieg came in. Roaveen's gaze travelled to the Lieutenant, who was standing among the leverets, watching Korari for anything spoken.

He had protested against Krieg and the veterans at first, but then he realized how they hastened the training of the Regiment's youngsters.

Now, Roaveen was finding a new use for Krieg: he would watch his younger brother closely for any open signs of treachery. Krieg had protested against the orders at first, imploring Roaveen to reconsider these orders.

Roaveen had reconsidered alright: he had planned to promote Krieg to Captain over Lieutenant Roselyn, who was young enough to be Krieg's daughter. She was a rising star, while Krieg had been disappointed by the deal of life.Roaveen could easily change that. Roselyn would be dismissed, saying she was too young, and that Krieg deserved it over her. It would be treacherous indeed, for Krieg was technically not even in the Long Patrol, but Roaveen had pointed out to Krieg that if he was both a Captain in the Mountain Regiment and the Long Patrol, his future would be more secure.

Pride was an interesting thing, for all creatures drew a line in the sand as to when to swallow their pride in favour of greed. Krieg's line had been promotion, for all his denials against it; he had come over the line regretfully and sad, but the eagerness in his eyes for this new opportunity was obvious to see.

Roaveen liked how he had humbled the hare; it was another example of his influence over everyone. He had his father in the palm of his hand, if he wanted to. He had always been favoured over Thornback and Korari, and age meant nothing to his father. Oakfur's judgement had always been fair and just, except in the matter of his sons.

Roaveen felt better all of a sudden, and he allowed the Regiment to rest for a bit.

He had also thought of a way to lessen Korari's influence.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

The two rats were evil, dull-looking creatures, and they reeked of dirt and lack of cleanliness.

Varrus shivered inwardly; why was he dealing with such disgusting creatures? He reminded himself why, but it didn't help.

"So, what d'you want ter see us for?" the rat sneered at the old otter. The rat's breath reeked, and Varrus tried not to show his distaste.

"I want two creatures out of the way."

The rats grinned in surprise. They had not expected such a thing from this otter, but it had been arranged by someone they trusted, so they had agreed to give Varrus safe passage.

Elial had been pardoned of the murder in secret, as long as he arranged a meeting with the rats. They were stupid enough not to demand a high price for their services; Varrus had been grateful, against his will. He had thought he could live peacefully after the death of Lyon, but no; he had to kill Adisa and Arly.

The two of them were threatening him, threatening him more than he had ever imagined possible at this point. Adisa could easily be removed of, but Arly was the biggest threat now. With Arly on his side, Adisa made a bridge across the gap between him and the creatures of Redwall. This was dangerous, and Arly's death would solve it all.

The rats listened to how Varrus ranted feebly against Adisa and Arly, and shrugged, "What've they done to us?"

Varrus grew suddenly worried at this reluctant attitude; they might not do it!

"He is a civet!' he came up with a weak argument indeed, but as he thought of it, a thousand creatures had been affected by that one statement back in Varrus' day. The days of hardened prejudice had not been forgotten by many, and he hoped that these rats remembered those days from their forefathers.

The rats looked at each other, doubting frowns on their ugly faces. They were trying to recall what that statement had meant back then. Varrus had to grind further at their minds if he wanted to persuade them, "Are you two shamed at the thought of death? Are you squeamish about it?" He was goading them, poking at their pride.

It showed on their expressions; the growled at the accusations. The superior of the two of them spoke, "We're soldiers, otter."

Varrus shrugged, "Oh yes, in the catalogue of things, you pass off as soldiers, certainly. Just as the most miserable vulture and the mongrel seagull and the noble eagle come together as birds of prey. In this way you are also soldiers, but compared with good soldiers, I'd have to speak otherwise. Unless you would take your reputation into your own paws. My health and safety would be much better without the foul stench of the civet and his friend, a traitor to all woodland creatures."

The rats were almost convinced, so Varrus pushed forward once again, "Both of you know, this traitor is your enemy."

The rats nodded obediently.

"He is mine too, so that with every minute he still lives, it tears at my being. So remove this hedgehog from my sight and this world. Mask your business from the others, and report back to me afterwards."

The second rat spoke up, "We shall do it, Abbott." He was more respectful of the otter after Varrus' persuasiveness.

Varrus was exultant, "Good. Find yourself the best time to kill him, for it must be done today. And somewhere away from Redwall: I want no botched work on this traitor. Adisa the civet too would be a great relief. Both must embrace the darkness tonight, and when they have, return to me in secret."

The rats nodded, and headed away into the woods to find a good position.

Varrus sighed; he had said many persuasive things then, and it gave him a savage pride. He had been able to persuade several people of his arguments. He was glad that he still had this skill.

But the rats worried him. They would do the deed he had asked of them, but Arly and Adisa were not weak creatures. If it came to a skirmish, they could win.

Varrus resolved to send a third murderer; Elial, the old fox. He was not physically as strong as he had been before, but the dog-fox was a skilled assassin and mercenary. That, combined with the rats' strength, would surely destroy this threat to him.

He gave Elial some secret orders, and within an hour, the old fox slipped out of the side door, unnoticed by anyone.

Now for the hardest part, Varrus thought as he alone of all Redwallers watched the old fox head into the forests.

He went down off the wall, wondering, "Who to ask? Adisa would surely take Arly with him, but he would be suspicious. Arly would not detect anything amiss, but the was a chance that he might take Verso or someone else instead.He would take the risk, and went to the cellars.

Arly was repairing the Dibbuns' wooden boats. The infants of Redwall loved to push their boats in the shallows of the Abbey Pond, and Arly would often be asked to repair a boat that had broken.

Varrus would have felt horribly ashamed two seasons ago, but he was desperate, and he forced out of his mind the facts that Arly had been brought here as a babe by Varrus, that the hedgehog secretly loved Varrus like a father and that Arly had been appointed Cellar-Hog by Varrus after he had been unable to finish his education. Such trivial details clouded his judgement, but he made sure his voice was kind, "Alonzo, I need you to go into Mossflower."

Arly stared casually, "What do I have to get, Father Abbott?"

Varrus had thought of something perfect, "I need you to go to the Great Berry Patch and bring back a few bucketfuls for the Dibbuns' dessert." The Great Berry Patch was deep inside Mossflower, and it had blackberries, blueberries, cherries, a thousand of each one clumped together. Varrus knew that Arly had a shortcut to the berry patch, and had informed the murderers of the location.

Arly nodded obediently, much like the murderers had done, ironically.

Varrus forced himself to smile, "Thank you, Alonzo. Oh, and bring someone with you to hasten the job." He left the Cellar, glad to get away from the creature he had condemned to death.

To ensure that Arly picked Adisa, he made Verso the mole and five of Arly's closest friends in charge of setting the Redwall tables for dinner.

Now all he had to do was wait.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

The rats were astonished to see Elial arrive to their secret place of ambush, but they did not attack.

The superior of the two spoke up, "What are ye doin' 'ere? Who sent ye?"

Elial smiled, "Varrus."

The rats exchanged looks, and the first rat answered, "He shouldn't think 'e carnt trust us, since he told us what to do."

The second rat stepped forward, "Then stand with us, and see if you can hear anyone else coming." Foxes were famous for their acute senses, so the rats reluctantly accepted Elial to join them.

After ten minutes or so, Elial's ears pricked up out of experience, "Hark! I hear foot paws."

Arly had asked Adisa to come, and presently, was guiding the civet to the Great Berry Patch on his own trail there. They had trouble due to the setting sun, but luckily Adisa had brought a torch.

The rats poised with anticipation, while Elial stared at the distant light approaching. It had to be made certain that no one saw the murder of these two creatures.

Finally, the two creatures came within their sights. It was Arly and Adisa, the civet carrying a torch. Elial signalled to the rats; this was them.

Elial ran forward and knocked the torch out of Adisa's grip. It fell and extinguished itself.

Arly called out, "It's an ambush, Disa. Run!"

He screamed as the rats stabbed him with their wickedly sharp knives. The rats were utterly silent, as was Elial when he slit the hedgehog's throat.

Adisa escaped. Unnoticed underneath the sound of Arly's last shout, he fled from the place, weeping at the sound of Arly's death. Ambushed! But by whom?

He fled into the bushes, concealing himself in a tree. He knew that Redwall rang its twin bells for suppertime, so he would wait until the bell rang that he would find his way back.

Adisa still wept as he thought of Arly Punto. The hedgehog had been a great friend, and now, he had been ambushed and killed by a gang of ruffians no doubt. The sad part was that he could never find out who had committed such a horrid deed.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

The rats made a little light, and they gazed at the victim of their knives, "And the other?" they asked at once.

Elial cursed; the civet had escaped, but thankfully had seen nothing. They could return in safety to Redwall, for he had seen the civet run in the wrong direction. The civet would not be lost for long, so they had to act fast.

"Don't clean the knives, mates. Rifle through this 'ere hedgepig's pockets and get some stuff that only he would have."

The rats worked quickly, coming up with a little brooch on the hedgehog's belt and a small scallop shell that could only have come from the sea shore. It had presumably been a gift to the hedgehog, and it would prove useful now.

The three murderers fled to the direction of the Abbey, making sure they were not seen by anyone.

They approached a little door where Varrus had said he would meet them when the Abbey bells rang for supper.

After a minute, the bells began their loud music, and the murderers braced themselves for the door to open.

Varrus opened the door after another moment, "Yes?"

Elial handed him the hedgehog's valuables and the three bloody knives, "As you asked, Varrus."

Varrus paused, perhaps in horror, but answered in a low determined voice, "Both of them?"

The dog-fox shook his head, "No. Adisa escaped, and he'll be back soon. He didn't see us, so you can accuse anyone ye want." Elial said the last seven words with a wink.

Varrus nodded, "Give me a minute, and I'll give you your rewards."

He turned away to conceal these things, even as Elial turned on the rats, slaying both with blows to the necks with his staff. Varrus could never have rested safe with those rats alive...

The rats crumpled in a heap; Elial would drag their corpses into the bushes far away from the hedgehog's body, and he would then go south as fast as he could, free from persecution from Redwall.

Varrus went upstairs to where the female squirrel Elfwin had her bed. He lay the hedgehog's valuables under the straw mattress, along with the bloody knives. Smearing some blood on the squirrel's spare tunic, he knew she would be guilty of murder. She had not been seen at all, and he knew that only now would she come out of her drugged sleep in the Cellar, and find herself unaware of how she got there.

He sighed in relief, and went to supper.

Mother Sara, the badger mother of Redwall stood up, "Welcome to supper, Father Abbott! Here is your seat." She pointed at one of the tables, but Varrus could see no free space.

Varrus looked puzzled, "Where is my seat?" All were occupied, as far as he could see. Sara seemed to be pointing at a row of seats that was obviously occupied by hedgehogs and moles, who had their backs to Abbott and Mother Badger.

Mother Sara pointed again, "Right here."

Varrus looked again, and to his absolute horror, one of the hedgehogs turned around to face him.

Arly's face was covered in blood, with many cuts on his face and neck. One eye was an empty socket, and his jaw was half-torn away.

"Do not look at me like that!' Varrus called out in fear, 'I did not do it! Do not shake your bloody locks at me! Can you not disappear like the others, long ago, and not bring such a speculation before my eyes! Do the laws of life and death no longer apply? Begone!"

Arly disappeared, leaving a vacant chair.

Cavern Hole was silent, staring at their Abbott in surprise.

Varrus stared at where the ghost had been, shaking as he had not shaken all day. He wondered faintly how he could not appear strange in front of all these creatures.

As traumatized as he was, he thought of a plausible excuse.

He turned to the crowd, "I have received a vision from Martin the Warrior!"

All believed that he had received a message of some kind, and the fact that it was Martin the Warrior filled them with intense curiosity.

Varrus still shook, "I know who killed Slade."

Just as he said this, Adisa came in, pale from his experience of running through the dark forests to the Abbey.

As the crowd turned his attention to the civet, Adisa yelled out, "Alonzo Punto is dead!"

The civet wept silently as he said the statement, and Varrus felt a bit better.


	10. Chapter 10

9

The foray sent by Ætharr proved to be spectacular success, but a small one nonetheless. The south-eastern tribes were small in number and land, even when combined, and at their worst could be a distraction from a bigger problem.

Despite these facts, Ætharr himself went down with another draft of volunteers after a costly victory by his cousin. The troops sent by Burg and Vogel had come too late for that battle, and now Ædall needed more troops to bring the war onto their land.

No help came from Vireo whatsoever, and even Ætharr was angry at that. They were of course, defending the Vireo territory from being overrun by the south-eastern tribes.

ֹÆtharr arrived as quickly as he could to the front with a hundred and fifty troops. Some of them were veteran troops from his previous campaign to give the battalion a stiff backbone, for most of the troops were raw, unblooded youths fresh out of their training, and Ætharr was eager to give them proper experience. Judos had been asked to come with the weasel, and the otter dutifully came, wearing the sword of Martin at his side.

He arrived at the camp of Ædall after four days of hard marching that had almost knocked the wind out of the youths, despite their tremendous strength and stamina that defined Calador weasels above other weasels.

The camp was like a case of déjà vu for the veterans of the Jeri campaigns. Ædall had been in temporary command during the war, and he applied the lessons he had learned in the military camps. Heavily armed guards surrounded the camp on all sides, and the tents were quick to put up and easier to pull down.

Ætharr was very satisfied: his cousin was best in times of war, he realized. Especially after hearing stories from the troops. Ædall had been fanatic as a leader, always spearheading assaults and driving forward to counterattack. The recent battle had been damaging true, but that was because they had been ambushed and outnumbered. Ætharr had organized a shield-ring, taken a score of his troops and driven forward to pierce through the opposing ranks. Tattooed vermin had shrieked their war whoops and it had been terrifying for the Calador troops. However, according to those who fought the battle, it didn't even worry Ædall. He threw all caution to the wind, and drove into the thickest of battle. Some said he was invincible, for despite his ferocity and almost suicidal urge to go for the throat, hardly any weapon would bite on him.

Ætharr was interested in this, and was surprised. His cousin had never been foolhardy or unaware of his own mortality before. True, he had won several victories in this fashion, but it would not always work.

He decided to speak to the weasel as soon as he could find time for them to have a private conversation.

For now, there was the necessity of preparing for war. A war-band had been discovered approaching the camp, so a trap was to be laid.

Judos, Ætharr, Ædall, and Vogel, one of the new theigns, formed the council of war. Vogel was a strong, reliable beast that had an accent from the east of Calador; he had been chosen due to his administrating experience.

The plan for tomorrow was simple, Ætharr stated; lure them into a tight space, surround them, and kill them all to a beast. No one must survive this surprise attack, for then the tribes would know that Ætharr himself was there.

Judos had objected to the planned massacre, but was shot down by Ædall of all people.

"You have to kill them so they can't give information to the other side! And besides, the more you kill, the fewer come back to fight again!"

He had sounded much harsher than he used to, even when addressing his beloved cousin, Ætharr. Judos was distinctly reminded of Blackback, the sable ferret that had been a harsh creature and leader.

There was definitely something up with Ædall, Judos thought. He would never talk to Judos like this before, and absolutely not when talking to Ætharr.

Judos stared in surprise at Ædall, "Is something wrong, Ædall?"

The weasel looked at Judos as though he was seeing an old friend he could barely remember, "Wrong?"

Vogel began to laugh at Ædall's strange behaviour, but shut up immediately when Ætharr shot him a dangerously cold look.

Judos could see that Ætharr too was shook by his cousin, but he could not lose face now, so he made no enquiries.

The weasel nodded at the otter, "It's true, Judos. There must be no survivors of this trap. It's essential that the tribes still think it's only Ædall they're fighting."

Judos accepted defeat; he didn't want to start a fight, especially not in front of Vogel, whom Judos had begun developing a dislike to.

A plan of attack was decided upon. Ædall would march forward with all of his original troops still alive, and would lead the raiding party into a little valley surrounded by forest, where the forces of Judos, Ætharr, and Vogel would charge. Judos was given command of Burg's forces, while Ætharr commanded the troops he had brought from Æthelly.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, the troops were in their positions; Ædall marched forward to look for the raiding party. A fire spewed smoke to the red-tinged blue sky, inviting anyone to come see who was there.

The raiding party obliged them; there were about fifty tribesmen in the group, outnumbering Ædall's depleted forces by fifteen extra beasts.

They howled to the heavens when they saw who it was at the fire; when they saw the Calador weasels quickly getting up and backing away from the newcomers, the raiders shouted and jeered. They charged forward, expecting a surrender.

Ædall gave them the opposite. He roared out a challenge, swinging his battleaxe in the air. He was in a killing mood, regardless of any plan he had made with his cousin. He wanted blood to flow at his feet.

He saw it in front of him now before he even spilt it. The raiders threw themselves forward at the weasel standing in front of his shield-wall.

Three fell to his large axe before they knew it: even as the three victims wailed their death cry, another had his life snuffed by a hatchet thrown at close range.

Withdrawing in fear, the raiders realized who they were fighting, and they knew that they could not win against such a powerhouse.

Back in the trees, Ætharr snarled softly at the sight of his cousin, "Damn it, why isn't he pulling back?"

No one could give him an answer, and the Ealdor cursed to himself.

Back at the battle scene, Ædall stood between the two masses, staring at the raiding party with contempt and blood-lust. He was challenging one of them, any of them, to single combat. None answered his challenge, but they muttered curses at the weasel.

Hearing these curses, Ædall gave an arrogant laugh, a dark laugh. He was unbeatable, and many would fall before his frustrated thirst was quenched, and to hell with the rest of the world!

He turned his back on his foes and walked away without a care in the world. His gesture implied that the enemies were not worthy opponents, and this, coupled with Ædall's arrogant taunts, ground the raiders' pride into the dust. Hesitantly, the Calador troops followed their leader, unwilling to expose their backs to attack.

This was too much for the raiders. Uttering keening shrieks of anger, they charged.

The Calador troops began to run fast, realizing that now was the time to pull into the valley.

All except for Ædall: he did not quicken his pace, and was soon left behind by his troops. Several of them called for him to hurry up, but he spat on the ground to show his disgust at the suggestion.

The opposing tribesmen were almost upon him, snarling at the weasel they hated the most of all Caladors.

Ædall whipped around, fighting even as he walked backwards. He was lethal, keeping all at bay with his massive swings and his rapid strikes with throwing hatchets.

The Calador troops stood a distance back, wondering whether to go back and rescue Ædall, or follow out the plan.

Ætharr solved the problem for them; the Ealdor charged out from cover, heading straight for Ædall and the raiding party.

Ædall made no acknowledgement of them, continuing to head backwards, slaying all he could. A spear had pierced his armour and hit his shoulder, and a dagger had been thrown into his forearm, but those were his only wounds.

Then the raiders saw Ætharr charge forward with his troops, and fear gripped them. They had lost several to Ædall, and they would all die if they continued to fight. They turned around and fled for the horizon.

Instead, they fell onto the spears of Judos' and Vogel's troops. They had quickly headed for the rear of the enemy, and it was a relief that they had been so quick.

Unfortunately, they had not been quick enough- ten evaded the Calador weasels, and burst free.

Ætharr signalled to Judos; the otter loosed his sling, as well as a score other weasels. Thirty other weasels nocked arrows onto their bows.

Under the deadly barrage, the survivors of the first clash were wiped out. To make certain, Vogel's troops ran after them.

Ætharr was one of the few who did not cheer. Angrily, he stepped in front of Ædall, "What were you thinking?"The Ealdor's cousin stared resentfully at Ætharr, as though he were a little school child being told not to play rough by the teacher.

Ætharr shook his head in anger, "Come with me."

Ædall spat, but followed obediently. They were unnoticed by most, though several began whispering.

In the clearing, Ætharr turned and roared, "Are you out of your fucking mind!"

Even Ædall was surprised at the venom displayed.

Ætharr suddenly lost all rage from his voice and appearance, "There, now I've done two things; I've got your attention, and I just let out all my anger at you. So tell me, what is going on with you?"

It was quite tactical in dealing with his anger and Ædall's surliness, but the genius of it was generally lost since it had only been directed at one person and without witnesses.

Ætharr had always been bold with his words, which had helped him win over the late King Nero and the newly crowned Blackaxe of the Jeri clan.

Unfortunately, where Ætharr was highly inquisitive and demanding, Ædall could turn as tight-lipped as an old shellfish. He now stared blankly at his cousin, neither angry nor amused, staying neutral as a soldier in attention position.

Ætharr was inwardly losing his temper at this display of passive resistance, but he was able to hide his anger most of the time.

"Why did you not follow the plan, Ædall? You said yourself that we had to kill them all at the argument."

No answer.

"That means you either changed your mind halfway, or you were planning to disobey the orders from the beginning. Both ways it's unacceptable how you disobeyed, and you were about to be swarmed and killed." Deep down, though, Ætharr had to admit that his cousin held his own quite well.

Ædall focused on a scar above Ætharr's left eye, where the two of them had been training with weapons and Ædall's paws had slipped by a fraction. The thought of that memory made the whole situation more uncomfortable for both weasels.

Ætharr brushed the thought away, "Is that what you wanted? To be killed in combat? Is that the inspiration for your suicidal bravery? You wish to die in battle?"

"There are worse ways to go." Ædall finally spoke, but it was a diffident response. He had spoken quietly, with a trace of defiance.

Ætharr opened his mouth to say something else, but paused. He closed his mouth again, realizing that Ædall had meant something deeper in that statement.

"What do you mean?" Now Ætharr was hesitant too. For now they were nearing the topic of their estrangement, and both were unwilling to tackle it.

Ædall glanced down at his silver greaves, still firmly strapped to his legs, as though they were the most interesting things in the world.

Ætharr's mind clicked all of a sudden; his father's murder. Was that what Ædall was referring to? He could think of no other possibility, but it made no sense to invoke Ællear's manner of death.

"Are you talking about my father?"

Ædall looked up, his eyes wide with surprise, even fear. But the look was there only for a few seconds. Sadness replaced Ædall's expression, and he looked down again.

Ætharr sighed in frustration and scratched at an old leg wound, which he had gained as payment of avoiding a brutal death. Ædall had knocked the fatal blow to the side, causing only another scar on Ætharr's body. This accidental recognition of a debt that Ætharr owed his cousin caused him a wave of harder uneasiness.

A voice called for the Ealdor, saying it was urgent.

The two cousins went back, knowing that this was a way out of an awkward situation. But this was not the end of it, they both knew that.

One of Ædall's troops was standing over the ten corpses that had been shot down by missiles.

"It's Glugbog!" Glugbog was possibly the south-eastern tribes' most powerful chief, though the standards were not high in their case. Still, Glugbog had been one of the pillars in the south-eastern resistance.

Ætharr smiled thinly; now things had changed.

The army left immediately for the heart of the tribes. They would now have even more bargaining power, for they held the body of Glugbog preserved as proof.

Judos disliked the fact that they waved a corpse around as though it was a banner. This was an exaggeration, of course, but he felt that the Calador troops were disrespecting the dead creature.

Few cared about scruples; they just wanted to finish this conflict once and for all, and now they entered the lands.

Farmers and hunters fled from the advancing Calador. The tribes here had never been as advanced as their bigger neighbours.

Ætharr had dignity in their invasion, for he feared descending to Oorlog's level. He treated the tribes with generosity, offering to pay double price for food supplies.

Many refused the foreign coins of Calador, but a few of the smartest beasts willingly sold crops for the double price. They foresaw that the marching ranks of the Calador weasels would become a familiar sight in these parts.

Ætharr enjoyed marching through these lands with his force of about two hundred and fifty beasts. This probably equalled to all the professional soldiers in these tribes, but it was less than a fifth of Ætharr's force.

None resisted them as they marched towards the sacred meeting place of all these south-eastern tribes.

The meeting place was a circle of stones, set up by generations of vermin. It was a foreboding place, due to the spiritual might of it. This was where all politics as well as religion was discussed between the south-eastern tribes.

Ætharr was unfazed, or convinced himself that he wasn't. He needed to appear without fear when he talked to the leaders of these tribes.

The meeting date was called immediately by the high priests that resided among the stones. It took three days for the leaders to arrive.

All were tattooed in different manners. They called themselves the Juska once, a long time ago, but that name had long been dropped. The Juska had once occupied the south-western coasts, living like kingly nomads, but an old lord of Salamandastron changed that, albeit indirectly. Ruggan Bor had been the famed leader of the biggest Juska faction, but was humiliated outside Redwall Abbey without even joining battle. With this humiliation, Ruggan had returned to his lands to find that war had begun in earnest. The tribes slaughtered each other viciously with the fall of their best tribe's reputation. This caused their number to collapse, and they were invaded by other tribes of vermin. Eventually, they fled the coast to settle in the dense forests and shrub lands of the south-east.

Ætharr watched as the leaders settled down in ritualistic fashion. Determined to give a good impression, Ætharr made a respectful imitation of their ritual. The leaders were suspicious, but not openly offended.

Thus, the meeting began with a wary wondering of what this young Ealdor had to offer.


	11. Chapter 11

10

Thornback realized that he had to take care of Taskill himself and steal the second clue from the hare's mansion.

He came to this conclusion after days of hard, careful thought, and a few incidents that happened during this thought.

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He left Ben's shop with the news that the spy had brought for them. Maon and Priam were very relieved that Diomede and Taskill had been unsuccessful in finding the third clue. But that did not destroy the problem that was being faced. They could still work out the location.

So they needed to get the second clue back from them before they wrote down a copy. Then the Black Rabbits would be able to find the King's Scroll and Priam would be king.

Priam was willing to do almost anything to assist his new friends, but he could not think of a way to get the second clue.

It was in the afternoon, just after lunch, that Maon decided that their spy could get the clue, or at least find out where it was.

The assignment was delivered to the sister, and she promised to tell him what they needed.

No response came for two weeks. At the end of those two weeks, a convoy of hares came forward, wearing the top hats of the Nativists and were led by Taskill.

Priam, Maon, Thornback, Skipper, Raga, Jander, and Earnan rallied a defence of about twenty-five other hares to stand firm. As leader of the Rabbits, Maon stood at the doorway, backed by the rest. As a safety precaution, Skipper stood hidden by one of the windows on the top floor, ready to send a sling stone whizzing down to prevent an assassination.

Taskill was holding a leather bag, but no one had any idea of what was inside it.

He glanced at Priam, "So, here's Diomede's older brother. You look just like him, you know that?" It was conveyed as an insult, which revealed that Taskill too disliked the selfish younger brother.

Priam glared at the tall hare, able to do so because he was standing on steps and was only about three inches shorter than Taskill, "You tell my brother, that I will not see him become king of the Highlands." There was a defiant note in that, but also a regretful one; Priam still loved Diomede, and did not want to kill his brother.

Taskill, who probably would have slit his brother's throat with a song on his lips, leered at what he believed was a terrible weakness in a fighter.

He looked at Maon, "I always thawt you were the best one."

That was a surprise; Taskill, making a compliment to his enemy? No one could respond to this sudden sentence out of the Nativist leader.

But he was not finished, "Your father was probably the strawngest foe I've ever had, but your brother was an emotional prick. You were the one that deserved to replace your fawther as head of this rabble. You were the one most likely to arrange a truce. But now I see that I was wrawng." He laughed and threw the bag at the Rabbits.

Earnan caught it, and looked inside; turning pale with shock, and then red with fury, he spat at Taskill's feet.

It was the head of their spy, caught at last.

Taskill turned and left, taking his troops with him, still laughing at his triumph.

Thornback wasted no time and went to Ben's shop.

None of Taskill's hares lounged about the house, so Thornback was relieved. He wore a hood and cloak to disguise his face.

He went up to the door, knowing that it would look suspicious if he was going at dusk. Nevertheless, if there was anyone he trusted absolutely, it was the raccoon with his shillelagh.

He knocked on the door with a soft tone but an urgent beat.

As usual, Ben opened the door from the side, his shillelagh poised to strike.

The raccoon growled in relief, "It's you." He shoved a piece of crab meat in his mouth and lowered his shillelagh.

Thornback unloosed his hood and took off the cloak, "We have to get that second clue, Ben. As of now, no one can find the King's Scroll, and we have to find it before they get the chance."

Ben went back to his plate of shrimp, crab, and potatoes. He drank deeply from a jug of ale to wash down the crab, and dug into his meal.

"I'm still listening," he spoke through a mouthful of shrimp.

Thornback sat down, and continued, "Ben, how many times has Taskill talked with you to try and get you on their side?"

Ben paused in mid-chew, but disguised it quickly by wiping his jaws with a napkin, "Once or twice, why?"

Thornback leaned forward eagerly, "He must have told you where he lives!"

Ben smirked as he crunched on a salty potato, "It's no secret, Thorn. He lives up at the castle, you know, where the king used to sit."

Thornback turned to the window, and looked to where the castle stood on the highest hill, overlooking the city with an aura of both fear and power. It was darkened to black, but tinged orange around the edges from the rising sun.

"Is Taskill up to anything lately?"

Ben looked at him, finished his dinner, and took a pot of hot water from the fireplace. He began to was off his dish and his cutlery and gave an answer, "There's the anniversary coming up."

"What anniversary?"

"It celebrates Mungan's death in battle with the Nativists. Every season, on the same day, it's been declared a holiday among his hares. I've heard it's a nice party."

Thornback fumed at this disrespect for the old leader of the Black Rabbits, and was particularly frustrated at the mildness in Ben's voice.

But he suddenly saw what he could do, "Where is this feast held?"

"The castle, of course! Where else would it be held?"

Thornback nodded grimly, "I'm going to infiltrate the castle and steal the second clue tomorrow night!"

Ben almost dropped his plate, "You're out of your mind!"

Thornback shook his head, "It's the only thing to do!"

Ben sighed, "What are you going to do to cover your back?"

"I'll think of something," Thornback gave that quick answer because in truth he didn't know what to do about that.

Ben had finished his washing, and took up his fiddle. He began playing a tune unknown to Thornback.

He played for a minute without speaking, and nodded at the candles, "When the music's over, turn out the lights."

Thornback nodded, knowing that that would be his signal to escape unnoticed.

Ben looked morose, and sang in a harsh voice,

"_For the music is your special friend_

_Dance on fire as it intends_

_Music is your only friend_

_Until the end_

_Until the end_

_Until the end!"_

He continued to play without singing, and then stopped all of a sudden.

Thornback blew out the candles, put on his cloak, and left the shop as quietly as a shadow fleeing after the retreating golden sun.

Ben sighed angrily, shook his head, and went upstairs to bed.

The raccoon wondered about what sort of foolish idea Thornback would think up to distract Taskill, and drifted to sleep.

At one time in the middle of the night, he awoke to a sound coming from the alley next to his house.

Blinking his tired eyes, he crept out of his bed and towards one of his windows to see what was going on.

Shane, the otter who had sunk into a savage depression since the death of his sister, was throwing a knife at a specific target from about fifteen paces away.

Ben realized what was going on, and growled his frustration and regret at the idea.

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Thornback had come up with an idea, and he went to find Shane immediately after leaving Ben's house.

The otter was sitting in Maon's house, cradling an unopened bottle of gin. He was pure sober, but dull in the senses from sheer apathy and bitterness.

It was not just the fact that his sister had been butchered in the snow; he had committed atrocities that would have been unforgivable in Mossflower. He had slain young boys and burned down houses belonging to Nativists. He had become a savage fighter with little scruples, but it was wearing thin on the otter's conscience. He was, in short, becoming a recluse surrounded by those who cared for him.

June and Talia were very worried about him, not knowing what to do about it, and Thornback felt a pulse of guilt at this idea of his, but knew that it had to be done.

"Shane?"

The otter did not even look at him, but the badger could somehow tell he was listening.

"Shane, I need you to help me rob Taskill of the second clue,' here the otter twitched his head in the badger's direction, 'We need to get past Taskill's feast tomorrow night, and then we'll sneak into his private quarters. I need you to be lookout for me."

Shane might as well have been made of stone for how he was responding, but then, out of the blue, he spoke, "No."Thornback was surprised, but also sad. Shane was good at sneaking around- he'd received much training from Macrath- and if he would not help him, he did not know who he could turn to as easily.

Shane looked at Thornback with an icy stare, "I will kill him for you."

Thornback almost fell off his chair, "You're kidding me! You'll kill Taskill right there in front of everyone?"

Shane grimaced, "There's always a group of sea otters visiting the Highlands. They come to sell, not to pick sides, but Taskill takes an interest in flattering them anyways." He was right; sea otters often came with their cargo to trade, which was how Ben got his best fish. Shane could impersonate one of them and thus gain entrance into the castle.

"But Shane, you might be found, and you could die!"

Shane smiled the most unpleasant smile that Thornback would ever see in his life, "If I see someone who knows me, I will leave the castle or hide. Anyway, I will not be taken alive by those hares."

Thornback believed him.

Five minutes later, he left to practice throwing knives. Thornback wondered if this was his fault, but decided that it was not; Shane had brought forth the idea despite the badger's protests.

The next day, Shane was still holding his knives, his eyes red from staying up. When asked about it, he admitted that he had stayed awake until he could accurately hit his target every time. That had been about three hours before sunrise, and Thornback reckoned he would never have been able to stand that.

Shane was tough, that was what was good about him. Thornback knew he could rely on Shane to fulfil his part of the plan.

He went over the plan three times to a silent Shane. The last two times, the otter's almost-belligerent silence made Thornback feel very foolish. Still, he wanted everything to go right.

He consulted Ben one more time, as the raccoon was negotiating in his shop. He was having difficulty getting a conversation out of Ben that day.

"Will you let me do my work, Thorn?" Ben finally shot out angrily.

Thornback was surprised, even offended, "What's up with you? You look like you've got an appointment with the devil."

Ben flinched, then shot Thornback a look of tired irritation, "Can you just leave me out of this?"

Thornback left in a huff, refusing to reason with himself; Ben was busy, sure, but that was not a valid excuse to shut a friend out when that friend needed him. The nerve!

Nevertheless, he prepared for that night.

As the sun began to set, he and Shane headed out for the castle. Crowds were heading into the gateway, so there were no big identification checks.

Shane managed to squeeze in between a group of hares and sea otters. No one paid him any attention, each group thinking he was with the other.

Thornback kept his head low, and his hood wide. Every sound began to sound sensitive to him. As thought they were screams of recognition and accusation. But no one seemed too interested in him at the moment, each one eager to get inside.

Ben had been right; it was a big feast. Food was laid across a score of long tables, scattered in the room. There were a few guards in Nativist livery, but they were far outnumbered by the guests.

Thornback shied away from the dining hall, turning into a corridor leading upwards. He had not brought his spear, relinquishing it in exchange for a sharp dirk, which was halfway between a sword and a dagger. He had found it among the weaponry held in Maon's house.

He hoped he wouldn't have to use it; bodies just couldn't be hidden forever in their own castle. The badger was relieved when he found no opposition as he ascended the steps.

The dark corridor opened up to another hall. The walls were festooned with banners, tapestries, and doors. Thornback wondered which one opened to Taskill's private quarters.

Thornback had a feeling that none of them were Taskill's. As rich as the hall looked, it didn't seem right; Taskill felt that he was superior to all hares, especially those he led.

Not only that, he feared an assassination, as all tyrants do. So he would obviously want a room separated from his hares.

The question was; where to now?

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Music was being played loudly by a troop of musicians. It was different from the wild pipes of the Black Rabbits. It was more regimented a brisk, ordered beat on the single solitary drum, with a trio of flutes playing perfectly in unison with each other.

Shane leaned against a large column, sipping at his glass of water; he made eye contact with no one, keeping out of sight as much as he could. Most were digging into the lovely food laid out before them. There was bread, cheese, vegetables, soups, fruits, even some shrimp was laid out on the tables. The cooks had clearly outdone themselves, especially with the desserts. Cakes, pies, truffles, pudding, all were there after the dinner, and many of the hares found space for more food at the sight of these delicious additions.

No sign of Taskill yet, Shane thought, and he chewed at a piece of bread.

It wouldn't be too long now.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" """ "" "" "" "" ""

Thornback crept past the rows of doors, aiming to go upwards once more. He saw another set of stairs at the end of the hall. Hopefully it led him somewhere.

All other sounds seemed to grow louder by a hundred times now that silence was key. It was strange how that worked out- Thornback's nerves became extra wired at the little sounds that were normally taken for granted.

The stairs were winding, so Thornback was able to take a peek around the corner in case anyone was coming down.

He saw that he was nearing the top as the light got brighter. Thornback paced himself, trying not to make noise.

All of a sudden, there was the sound of a voice,

"Come and enjoy the party; I'm sure it will provide wonderful entertainment!"

That mocking voice could only be one person's: Taskill.

Thornback nearly jumped out of his skin in terror as he descended back down.

Footsteps came down, pounding the floor like giants, or so it seemed to Thornback.

Drawing out his dirk, Thornback slipped behind a suit of armour beside the stairs.

Just as his cloak whipped around the metal, a group of five creatures walked down the stairs.

Thornback dared not look at them: anything so as they would not see him. Shrinking down as far as he could, Thornback did not move until he could no longer heard their footsteps.

He sighed, shakily; sweating from terror, he climbed back up the stairs.

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Shane turned as Taskill entered the room like a god. There were a group of others behind him, but they were concealed from him by the cheering crowds of supporters for Taskill.

He smiled at them all under his oiled moustache and his top hat. He carried his knives and cleavers as usual, but the patched coat he wore to the gang battle was replaced by a jacket of fine brown cloth. Underneath this he wore a yellow vest and a white undershirt. A black bowtie finished the ensemble.

Shane growled as he listened to the band and hosted a show where he threw his knives expertly. A female hare was made to stand still as Taskill expertly threw his blades within millimetres of touching her.

He was good, but not good enough to dodge an assassination. Shane gave a cold smile as Taskill's knife thudded into the wood behind the assistant for the last time before the tall hare announced a toast.

This was it, this was when he would kill him, Shane thought as he fingered his blade.

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Thornback saw, to his delight, that there was only one door at the top of the stairway.

He crept forward, seeing that the door was well-oiled and would not creak when opened.

Examining the lock, he pulled out a picklock that he had borrowed from Maon. The hare had shown him how to use it, and had made him open a variety of locks until both he and Thornback were satisfied.

The door clicked open and made no sound as Thornback pulled it inwards.

There were no lights on in the room, which did not surprise the badger.

Discarding his cumbersome cloak, the badger drew his dirk and stepped inside.

At that very same instant, a heavy object whizzed out from the darkness to knock him unconscious.

"" "" "" """ "" "" """ "" ""

Taskill poured himself a glass of water, surrounded by his eager audience.

Adding a dose of alcohol, he held a candle near the edge of the glass.

The lighter alcohol caught flame, and the image it created was fascinating to watch.

Shane ignored it, and instead prepared to throw his knife. He was waiting for just the right moment to throw it and put an end to this despicable creature.

Taskill took off his hat and put it on the table. It was a signal: all other creatures in the rooms took off their hats and held them in their paws.

Shane, to disguise his plans, did likewise, concealing his knife.

Taskill spoke out to his audience, "We now give our tribute to a great victory that was fought two seasons ago, and won in great honour."

Shane was shaking with suppressed fury. There had been no honour at that battle; creatures demeaned themselves by gouging out their opponents' eyes and stabbing them in the back. Well, the otter thought, a fitting way this is, you fuck.

Taskill smiled, "In honour of triumph over the Black Rabbits, and the deaths we inflicted that day!"

Shane pulled out his knife and hurled it with a yell. Those around him backed away in initial shock.

Taskill ducked casually and drew his own knife. Hurling the deadly blade, it sank into Shane's stomach up to the hilt.

Shane froze in surprise and pain. Taskill had been expecting him! But how?

Two hares grabbed him and took away his other knives. For good measure, one of them savagely ripped out the knife and presented to Taskill.Taskill's eyes glittered in the artificial light of the candles and flames, "See how the new leader of the Black Rabbits fights me? By sending a grief-stricken lackey to try his ability with a knife!"Shane moaned in pain, tears pouring down his face.

Taskill had no mercy: he signalled for the otter to be held upright, and the tall hare delivered three hard kicks at the otter. It hit his stomach every time, invoking screams of pain from Shane, and jeers from the crowd.

Taskill turned to the crowd, "But if this outrage is not bearable on its own, look at this!"

He pointed to one of the entrances, where four big guards dragged Thornback in to yells of hate and rage.

Thornback was snarling angrily, attempting to struggle, but every struggle he made earned him a kick or a punch.

Taskill spat at Thornback, "Look at this, ladies and gentlemen! A common thief that relies on his friend to create enough of a ruckus so he leaves unharmed!" He turned to someone in the crowd, "Is this the lad we were talking about?" The question was spoken in a way that Taskill knew quite well the answer for himself.

Thornback looked to where Taskill was looking, and saw a horrifying sight.

Ben was wearing his usual vest and undershirt, now he was wearing a top hat. He fingered his shillelagh as he stared bitterly at Thornback and Taskill, "Aye, that's number two."

Taskill smiled evilly, "Let's nail this bastard to the wall and see how he likes that!" he was referring to Shane, who was now being stretched on a makeshift rack. The wound on his stomach was opening due to the stretch, and it was looking very nasty.

Thornback screamed at the sight. He leaned forward and bit Taskill's paw. Before he could taste blood he was viciously beaten until he let go.

Taskill took his blade and held it near a fire, "Stretch him out on the table!"

The badger still attempted to resist, but the guards head butted him several times; dazed and bloody, the badger was almost senseless.

Calls were made out, urging Taskill to kill the thief along with the assassin.

Thornback lay spread-eagled on the table, his face hurting from the blows and head butts received.

Shane was screaming as his paws were nailed to the stone wall. The stone made it difficult to put the nails in, which gave the otter even more pain.

But the pain was just starting for Thornback. Taskill's knife blades were red with heat, "This little bastard won't die like his friend. He will live with that guilt! He will walk amongst you in shame! Let him be deformed yet spared by me, _me,_ the true leader of the Highlands!"

The metal was laid to Thornback's face, and a sizzling noise sounded in the air.

And Ben, who watched from a distance, stood passively, unemotional, like a mercenary.


	12. Chapter 12

11

The lords of the former Juska tribes sat facing each other and Ætharr. The Ealdor of Calador sat composed and silent, as though he were a mighty emperor. And indeed, Judos thought, he looked most likely to be an emperor. It was not just his appearance- he was the youngest of the rulers present, if you could call these beasts rulers- but his attitude. He stared at them with a cold dignity that a creature might not gain in his whole life. It was almost chilling to look directly into his eyes as he stared at you.

But that was another fascinating thing about him; he seemed to be staring at each and every one of the creatures present. No one was excluded from his gaze.

Judos looked at the chiefs: the fight had gone out of them at the sight of Glugbog, evidently the most powerful among their war captains.

Ædall sat beside his cousin, and he was identified with hate by the chiefs. They might dislike this youthful conqueror, but they hated the mighty champion of Calador, as Ædall was being called now. He cared little for this popularity, stating he was a soldier, and that was it. Judos believed that Ædall did not care for such trivialities anymore- something had changed in him, but was unsure of what it was.

Judos and Vogel sat on Ætharr's other side, and Judos was able to see everyone's facial expressions and reactions.

The eldest of the chiefs, a grizzled stoat, spoke up first above the panpipes being played by the priests and seers outside the circle, "What is it you have come to speak about, Ætharr?" He gave the weasel no title out of disrespect and mistrust.

Ætharr showed no reaction to the insult, "I have come to discuss your behaviour these past few weeks." His voice was coldly neutral, which Judos saw was the best expression to use in a situation like this.

"Our behaviour? We're just gettin' land where we deserve it!" An obese rat spoke up angrily. His defiance faltered as Ætharr focused his attention upon the new speaker.

"Oh? And will you lose it after another series of bloody skirmishes?" It was jest, without any humour at all, at the history of the former Juska clans' bloody wars amongst themselves.

"That's not what the issue here is; we wanted to gain ourselves land from the collapse of the Millar tribe,' The old stoat put out, 'Do you think you are the only one here with ambition, Ætharr?"

Judos could suddenly see Ætharr's response coming before he even said it. Judos realized that his friend could become extremely mocking right now.

But he was not at all mocking; indeed, he did not change expression from his cold arrogance.

Ætharr inclined his head, "I am aware that I am not the only one with ambition, yes. I'm just the only one with ability to fulfil my ambition."

That was the plain, hard truth: these clans were not strong; they survived by flying under the radar, by avoiding the wars and sticking to themselves. Now, however, they had stuck out their necks to gain power.

The insult hurt them all, not just in the reality of Ætharr's words, but it was how casually he had said them that wounded them to the quick.

Ætharr saw this, and raised a hand, "I meant no offense, I am stating the truth, however blunt it may be." The coldness left his voice with the apology, but returned when he continued.

Ætharr pulled out a piece of parchment from his satchel, doubtless prepared by Ergot, his stunted scribe. He was purely business at this point, "As you know, I am able to do a great many things now. Some of these things are to my disadvantage, as they are to you. Perhaps I can find some things that are preferable to us all." He said that last sentence as a rhetorical question.

None answered him, though Judos noticed even the seers had lowered their panpipes and their charms to hear this.

Ætharr spoke again after a breath, "I am willing to serve as your benefactor; you will be open to trade by my merchants, and you will be guarded by soldiers loyal to me."

He handed the treaty to the old stoat, but the stoat did not take it. Judos realized that they were all uneducated, and that meant they had just lost more of Ætharr's respect for them, if there was ever respect in the first place.

The weasel turned to Judos, "Would you kindly read this parchment for us?"

Judos suddenly wondered if Ætharr was pretending illiteracy, but saw the truth behind it. It would be his voice announcing the rules and statements, and he could be the target.

Judos read out loud, "The Juska tribes will follow these regulations in the time of our treaty. One, they shall agree to allowing trading merchants enter their land and sell them goods (but they shall be forbidden to enter Calador land).' This rule was quite one-sided, but it was still to their advantage, 'Two, the Calador will protect the Juska tribes with a garrison of combined warriors from both lands.' That was good for then there would be friendships made while working together, "Three, the Juska tribes will allow armed troops to enter their lands and live there temporarily through the seasons." This was an obvious one if they wanted to create a combined garrison, "Four, there will not be any addition to land from the existing Calador or Vireo land, and the raiders will leave under pain of death." This was the final nail in the coffin; they knew that the raiders would die if found on the land.

One of the chiefs was livid, "This is humiliating beyond belief! We are slaves, shackled together by our weakness!"

Ætharr turned to stare at the chief, and his cold neutrality had become a cold disgust, "You had the chance to be great once, and you've been throwing it away for a thousand seasons, maybe more. I could come here with the entire Calador fyrd-over a thousand soldiers- and I will wipe every Juska off the face of this forsaken earth. Do you wish that instead?"

The chiefs knew that this was true, and some of them wrongly came to the conclusion that it would be easier for Ætharr to kill them all instead of leaving them around like leeches at his border. However, if Ætharr were to massacre the whole Juska population, then he would be (a) antagonized by all the other clans, despite his grand alliance, and (b) he would be no better, if not worse, than his uncle Ælfer. Ætharr would never do such a thing, but the Juskas never caught on to the coup of Ælfer as much as the fall of the Millars.

The chiefs saw the truth of this threat, and so, reluctantly, they nodded their agreement. However, Ætharr was not done with that; he made them swear on the lives of their children that they would follow these rules.

The meeting was over, and the chiefs left humiliated and furious. If they broke their word, their children would die, so they were done with fighting. Some of the smarter chiefs saw the positive side of having traders from Caladors selling their merchandise among the Juskas and being protected by the famed soldiers of Calador.

Judos knew this too, and as the Calador troops began to depart, he approached Ætharr privately, "Are you sure that this won't get out of hand?"

The Ealdor grinned, "I'm going to make sure that no metal tools ever reach within a day's march of that place. Plus, I will give special orders that no Juska will be trained in our form of fighting." Both of these tactics were wise to avoid a violent rebellion in that land: without proper weapons and knowledge of the enemy's tactics, the Juskas could be cowed for a long time.Judos was astonished at how clever he had been and was struck by how cold his friend had been during the negotiations. He had let no expression change his face other than contempt and neutrality. It was business, and Ætharr played the card well.

All the same, Judos disliked the way the eyes and voice of the Ealdor had chilled the soul of everyone attending the meeting.

He tried to get a side conversation out of Ædall, but the weasel was far too subdued, sulking as he walked. Perhaps he too had been surprised; Judos thought and sadly kept his opinions to himself.The Caladors made a campaign throughout the Juska lands, ensuring that the peace was maintained. Ætharr organized the funding for the construction of three large fortresses on the borders, plus another, larger fort to be built within the Juska land in order to guard the land. The best locations were scouted, and labourers drifted towards the new sites of construction.

Ætharr spent a season guarding his workers from ambush, but not even a trace of a war band was seen during the first stages of construction.

First, the three large border fortresses were half-finished and deemed able to use, whereupon Ætharr's troops and a third of the labourers began a rapid construction of the massive Juska base. It was built with a foundation of stones to prevent destructive fires. Ætharr got ample supplies from an unused lime quarry nearby. The work was done as meticulously as time allowed, but the labourers were assisted by the troops themselves in hauling stone from the quarry. The skills of building were done as secretive as possible to avoid passing knowledge of advancement to the Juska.

To further increase production, Ætharr called upon the help of his allies. Of the four tribes allied with him- Vireo, Jeri, Hunan, Falcarragh- only Ibos sent nothing. Blackaxe and Kazahley sent loyal troops paid to temporarily assist in the guard. Ætharr's coin system had the tribes of his allies, and it was working quite well in replacing the older method of bartering.

Tiarnan himself came to Ætharr, along with his hulking son and heir, Cocoran. They had brought a troop of their restless warriors, eager to quell any mutiny. They were disappointed at the lack of fight the Juska chieftains put up, but followed their orders without question. They had brought their music and their ale, so the whole experience became more pleasant with their arrival.Blackaxe sent the legendary Luther Pelopidas, the Canis of Bellum, leader of the Sacred Band, with fifty of the Jeri clan's ablest labourers. Composed entirely of martens, the Jeri clan beasts dwarfed even the weasels of Calador, who were themselves known for their size and strength. They came almost hand in hand with thirty soldiers from Kazahley, leader of what was now the Hunan tribe. A group led by Kazahley's brother Küchulår had fought for the Allies, and now they held a third of the original Hunan land.

They brought news from that part of the world. Luther talked of how the Sacred Band had tripled in size, while many martens were settling the lands once held by the Hunan. Kazahley and Blackaxe were good friends, but many Jeri possessed a suppressed hatred of the Hunan, even if they had fought for them. The prejudice formed out of a hundred seasons of slavery was hard to eradicate. However, for sake of the recent war and their lords, most hid their feelings.

Ætharr was pleased that Blackaxe and Kazahley were prospering, but was frustrated at Ibos' excuse that there was a slave riot in his land. He was most happy with the arrival of his in-laws.

Tiarnan shrugged away his son-in-law's gratitude, "My daughter's expecting pups, so her father will be there if necessary." He meant no disrespect to Ætharr; it was just part of a Falcarragh father's duties to his children.

Cocoran was two seasons older than Ætharr, but took a great liking to the weasel. Ætharr was painfully reminded of Ædall when looking at Cocoran, for the heir was tall, strong, outspoken and humorous.

"How is my sister keeping up?" Cocoran asked Ætharr one day.

"She was very well last I saw her, but that was a while ago." Ætharr began to feel guilty when he thought of how long he'd been away.

Cocoran noticed the look. He smiled and clapped Ætharr on the shoulder, "My father felt like that a lot when Rosheen was younger, and he always spent time with her and the other children. Just go back when you're finished here."

Ætharr thought about it, "I _am_ finished here. They can continue as they are without my help, and I'll go back to Æthelly." His mind clicked out of his usual track of thought and received an urge to see Rosheen again, as though she would die if he did not.

He hastily gave orders to continue, established the first temporary garrisons, and headed for the capital. With him were Judos, Tiarnan, Cocoran, and six guards, half Calador and half Falcarragh.Ætharr was distancing himself from Ædall in the false hope that the two of them would reconcile after some time apart. He was able to suppress his worries by thinking of Rosheen.

Judos was surprised at this urgency to get back to Rosheen. Why now? He wondered it as they travelled, but the otter was relieved at this dedication, for it showed that Ætharr had feelings and could care for others.

The march was double time, so the journey took only about a week. Judos was almost asleep from exhaustion when the mighty fortress of Æthelly loomed in their sights. If the Falcarragh were tired, they made no show of it. Judos felt mildly shamed into hiding his troubles in front of these proud creatures. Attitudes rubbed off on people.

Ætharr entered with the same haste that had carried him from the Juska lands to the capital. He ignored all who approached him and went up to the hall. It was there, the same as ever, and he got a familiar catch in his throat as he looked at the Calador banner above it.

Rosheen was not there. Ætharr was surprised, and a claw of fear gripped him for a few seconds.

Tiarnan and Cocoran looked at his expression and looked for someone. One of the guards outside the hall looked inquiringly at the new arrivals.

"You there!' Cocoran called with authority, 'Where is the lady Rosheen?"

The guard pointed down the slope to a stone house set aside from the rest, "She's there, my lord. Been there for the last two days, now."

Ætharr looked up, and stared, "It's where weasels give birth!" he whispered, aghast. Was he too late? Had she survived it?

He bolted down the hill faster than he thought possible. The others hurried after him best as they could.

Ætharr pounded in, "Rosheen! Rosheen!"

A nurse hurried up, "My lord, please!"

Ætharr realized he was raving. He took a deep breath, and asked in a shaky voice, "Where is my wife? I have come here with her father and brother to see her."

The nurse pointed to a room, "In there, she's resting."

Ætharr almost stepped forward, but turned back, "Is she well?"

The nurse nodded, "We think she will have the litter tonight, my lord."

He strode into the room just as the others entered the infirmary.

There she was; Rosheen lay on a bed of soft straw and cloth. Comfort was allowed to females giving birth in Calador, though it was encouraged not to overdo it: toughness had become a status necessary for them to survive.

She looked up at her mate, and Rosheen's eyes suddenly filled with tears, "Oh Ætharr! I'm so glad that you're here!"

That lilting accent, that voice, it still made Ætharr's throat dry, and he answered, "It's not just me, your father's here too, and your brother." On cue, they entered, with Judos trailing behind.

Rosheen gasped, and the tears began to pour, "Pa!"

Tiarnan kissed her brow, "Ah, my little Rosh! Are you alright?" His movements were incredibly gentle as though his daughter were made of glass.

She responded in her native tongue, and her father nodded in relief. Cocoran translated for Ætharr, "She said that it doesn't hurt yet, but she feels that the kids are comin', so they are."

Ætharr nodded automatically. He was going to be a father: what would it be like? Would he be hard and strict? Tender and compassionate? He hoped he could be as good of a father as his own father had been to him.

Thinking of his father, he suddenly wished that he was here, to help him, to be a grandfather to his children. Tears flowed from Ætharr's cheeks as he thought of the missed opportunities that his father's death caused.

Thinking of his father always reduced him to a child, he thought, a child that was lost in the forest without someone to hold him and tell him it was alright.

Brushing his father aside forcefully, the Ealdor looked to his wife, and hoped it would not be too painful. Few animals died in childbirth, and he prayed to his forefathers in the Hall that Rosheen would not be one of the few who died.

The doctor, a well-built weasel with a wheezy chest, told them that Rosheen needed rest. They were told to come back soon, for Rosheen was almost ready.


	13. Chapter 13

12

Roaveen knew that Roselyn was a brevet Captain, or in other words, a Captain in everything but name. Her rank had not been decided yet, so she was still a lieutenant. Everyone was so used to her being this way that they just called her Captain Roselyn. One could be fooled by such things.

He would use it as bait to hold Krieg in his paw. Krieg had been ordered as the thoughtful and experienced second-in-command by his father. Roaveen had hated it, no matter how good it had been. He had to be in control absolutely, no matter what Thornback had argued or that damn fool Colonel Seahawk had suggested. He had to be in charge of the Mountain Regiment, and would not tolerate one of his father's puppets preventing his absolute authority.

Roaveen did not look it, but he was actually quite cunning. He knew when to apply false kindness when it would gain him advantage. He could lose his temper, true, but he didn't care. When he got angry, surely always had a valid reason?

So he would make his father's puppet into his own puppet. He disliked Krieg, but the lieutenant would be pathetically grateful to him, and then he would become Roaveen's mongrel. Roaveen had no qualms about using such a beast as Krieg in such a manner. He was superior, and he would exercise his position properly. As for Badger Lords that had always refused to do: well, Roaveen would become a proper dictator to make up for such a waste of power.

He would manipulate Krieg by probing into the old hare's deepest desires that he withheld from clouding his judgement. He wanted to have a well-deserved rank instead of the youths that had barely put in seven season's worth of service.

Roaveen knew quite well that the law of the Salamandastron military stated that there had to be only ten captains in the Mountain. The Long Patrol was a single Regiment after all, with two battalions of five hundred hares each. In each battalion there were ten companies, composed of fifty hares each. A captain commanded two companies each, and a lieutenant commanded one company each. A major was in charge of a half battalion, so there were four majors in Salamandastron. In this case of the majors, Jackers was the senior major. That left the lieutenant colonel, in charge of the second battalion, and Colonel Seahawk, in charge of the first battalion. Continuing on was the Brigadier of Salamandastron, second only to the Lord of Salamandastron, who could assume either the rank of General or Field Marshal. In the last few leaders of Salamandastron, the heir served as General, and the Lord of Salamandastron was Field Marshal.

The Brigadier of Salamandastron was a hare a season or two younger than Seahawk, but a brilliant leader nonetheless. His name was Ulysses Kublai Sinistra, descended from the famous Major Perigord Habile Sinistra. He had much experience, having personally fought in the bloody Battle of the Red Shore as a colonel. He had led his unit to victory that day, and had been appointed to Brigadier upon the retirement of his predecessor.

Roaveen knew that Krieg would never make Brigadier at his age. Jackers was his age, and Jackers was a major, and Jackers was not expected to become a Brigadier. Seahawk was the one most likely to be that position if Ulysses died or retired.

Krieg tried not to be dominated by selfish thoughts, but as he got older, he began to question his accomplishments and found that they amounted to little. He wanted rank and privilege before he retired or died.

Roaveen knew how to handle ambition in Krieg; he would have the hare feeding out of his paw in no time: the only problems were those like Seahawk and Roselyn. She would surely protest at the fact that she had already been acting as a captain for so long, so that would require a bit of work. However, Roaveen had a wonderful trump card: he had the unending support of his doting father, and he had a lesser support of Lt. Colonel Balliol, a former prodigy that was entering his middle seasons.

Also, there was Korari, but he didn't want to create another feud with his brother, and Roaveen would play the big brother there. He would try to get Korari out of the way subtly, while placing his lackeys in high places.

Presently, he was grooming himself, running a comb through his fur. Roaveen was fastidious about his looks, and the one thing he regretted about battle was the way you looked afterwards.

Roaveen admired himself in the mirror: he knew he was handsome, and that was why he kept a mirror in his private quarters.

A knock on his door interrupted his vanity. Turning around angrily, Roaveen tactfully kept the anger out of his voice, "What is it?"

"Sah, it's Leaflock, sah."

"Ah.' This was a surprise to Roaveen. Leaflock was one of the most well-liked in the Mountain Regiment, and would have risen high in the ranks. So what did he need? Roaveen decided to find out, 'Enter."

The young leveret entered the room sheepishly, "Sah, I don't know if I want to stay in the Regiment, sah."

Roaveen was surprised, "Excuse me?" He could not help the astonishment in his voice.

Leaflock heard the tone, and tried to make amends, "No offence against the Regiment, sah. I liked it a lot, it's just...well... my two friends Fleetshot and Greybob want to join the Long Patrol."

Roaveen suddenly saw what was going on, "So you want to be with them when they enlist?"

Leaflock nodded, "If I could be with them and still be in the Mountain Regiment, then it would be great."

Roaveen shook his head, "I'm afraid that it..." but a cunning plan suddenly shot through his head. It would guarantee his ability to bribe Krieg and others. This was wonderful, and Leaflock of all people had given the idea to him.

He paused, allowing his face to adopt a thoughtful expression. Leaflock looked at him expectantly, like a little son who is asking his father if he can go visit his friend.

Roaveen paced his emotions as though he would pace himself in a track run. He slowly let a knowing smile play along his face, "You know, I'm sure we could partner the Mountain Regiment and the Long Patrol together after all."

Leaflock was thrilled, but surprised at first, "Sah, d'you means it? I mean, ye wanted us to be independent, sah!"

Roaveen paused for dramatic effect, pretending to think it over, "Well, if we separate from the Long Patrol, what's the point of staying Salamandastron? You don't want to leave do you?" This untruth scared Leaflock to violently shake his head.

Roaveen smiled. The leveret was hooked, and with him went the rest of the Regiment, "Well then, I'll see what I can do, and then you'll be able to be in the Mountain Regiment, and still see your friends in the Long Patrol."

Leaflock thanked him happily, and left. Roaveen leaned his chair back on two legs and smiled at his triumph.

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Korari ate his breakfast quick and headed up to the forge to see that his father received breakfast as well. His father as of late had become slightly forgetful, and had once stayed in his forge all day, without coming out even for meals. Korari wondered sometimes if there was something wrong with him.

He went up to the private forge, which was Oakfur's delight and hobby. He brought a dish of soft bread and jam. There was also a well-cooked piece of fish, as it was Oakfur's favourite food.

Korari went up to the entrance, and knocked loudly on the door, "Father! It's Korari!"

He went inside without an answer in return. Oakfur was dressed in an oily apron, and had massive gloves on his paws. A small pile of twisted metal lay on the ground beside him. He was enjoying himself hugely, though such jolliness would hardly have been seen on his face had there been another creature in the room.

He saw Korari, and his face lost its child-like happiness, and he became serious again, "Yes?"

Korari handed him the plate, "Breakfast, father. Old Peradon cooked it just for you."

Oakfur grunted in satisfaction, and took the plate, "You will send my thanks to him."

Korari's spirit fell, but he said, "Yes father, I will."

He walked away, feeling suddenly miserable. Peradon had retired three seasons ago, and his father was unaware that it was not Peradon's style of cooking.

Korari had caught the fish himself, and he had gutted it, and he had cooked it until he thought it looked right. His father had not seen the difference, yet surely he knew of Peradon's retirement?

His father was getting old, Korari realized with sadness. It was such a pity to see him this way. Oakfur had been a proud badger of great strength and mighty character. Now he was beginning to show signs of old age, and it scared Korari. He had never taken mortality so seriously before.

Just as he thought this, he went down the stairs, and bumped into Lt. Roselyn.

Smiling his hello, he saw that she was upset, "Is something wrong?"

She threw him a look of protest, "My bloomin' captaincy's been revoked!"

Korari was surprised. Roselyn had been a brevet captain for so long; he had simply called her captain. Now it seemed, she was to stay a lieutenant.

"Who got the captaincy instead?"

Roselyn shook her head, as though not believing it herself, "Krieg."

Korari frowned, "That's strange. Why shouldn't you both be captains? The Mountain Regiment is a separate unit from the Long Patrol."

"No it's not. Your brother's made that quite bally clear just two hours ago. It's in alliance with the Long Patrol. The problem is that the officer class ain't changing because of it. They say they have to stick to flippin' principle, wot!"

Korari was stunned, "My brother must have protested this, surely?"

Roselyn shrugged, "Don't know. I didn't see him there, you should talk to him about it."


	14. Chapter 14

13

The doctor shuddered as he walked through the ancient tunnels that were beneath the city of the Highlands. He had little idea where he was going, just that he had been sent here by letter.

He walked along, guided by a torch that lit the way about three feet ahead of him. The walls loomed out in front of him like monsters. The silence was getting to be unbearable.

The doctor tried calling out, but there was no answer. He hefted his medical supplies and called again. Still no answer came from him.

Listening for a few moments, the doctor decided that it had been a joke meant to make a fool of him. Angrily, he turned to leave the way he came.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. Whipping around, he saw a pretty young hare approach him.

She waved frantically with her paw to follow him, "This way, doctor. Please."

The two of them entered a small cave lit with a golden glow of a lantern.The doctor set to work immediately. The patient had been beaten, burned, and dragged along the ground.

Thornback moaned, and there was something savage in his moan. He struggled furiously against Harmonia's and the doctor's grasps, and screamed in the pain that he was in. The doctor saw immediately that Thornback had broken two ribs at least, and he had third-degree burns on his face and shoulders.

The more Thornback struggled, the more it hurt him, but he could not stop. He was hallucinating, and he was still fighting the hares in Taskill's lair.

Harmonia, in the end, took a portion of ether, and applied it to Thornback's mouth and nose. Coughing feebly, he fell into a drugged sleep.

The doctor sighed, "Thank you, miss. Your friend would have killed one of us if he could have." He began to examine the badger, grimacing at the wounds inflicted on his body.

One of Thornback's eyes was almost hidden by swollen bruising, and the other eye had been extremely lucky to not get burned by a poker thrust on the badger's snout. His shoulder bone was chipped, and he had swallowed two teeth.

Thornback was going to spend a while down here, the doctor thought as he worked. He was himself a neutral character, and he hated the gangs and their wars.

Harmonia saw the damage, and wept over the agony that Thornback must be feeling. She had never seen a creature so brutally hurt by the purpose work of others. Was this how far the Highlands had fallen? How could there ever be hope of a decent city again?

The following days went quickly for Thornback, but for his friends it was agonizingly slow. Maon, Harmonia, Skipper, Jander, Raga, and Earnan all spent long days in the caverns, watching over Thornback. Priam came down frequently as well, and he told Thornback stories of what was going on. It was hard to tell whether Thornback listened or even heard them: he stared into space, at least when his eyes were open. He barely moved, ate slowly, and he never spoke.

Thornback thought of little, until June and Talia came to see him one day. It was their turn to look after him and dress his wounds. However, as soon as he saw them, reality hit Thornback as hard as a boulder rolling down a hill. He screamed and wept, gibbering apologies to the sisters, and a firm-faced Raga had sent them away.

Shane was dead. Thornback still heard the otter's screams as he was nailed to the wall. The otter's corpse had been lynched on one of the trees growing in the town squares, until a rescue party had taken the body from its place of humiliation.

Talia and June had grieved, but it hurt them even more to see how Thornback was reacting. His grief was not helping his recovery, and he could not be persuaded that they did not blame him.What they didn't know was that Thornback knew who it was to blame: Ben, the damned mercenary all the way to the end. It had been Thornback who had met him, Thornback who had persuaded Ben to come to the Highlands, and Thornback who had loved Ben like a friend.

Raga was furious at Taskill, and had spoken out in the streets, swearing that Taskill was a terrorist and a tyrant. He stated that Taskill would fall to the forces of the right, but his message was not received with much vigour. If they approved, they wouldn't show it while the Nativists ruled.

Maon was hesitant to start a gang war. He was going to be a father, and he did not want his leverets to be fatherless. Priam, too, wanted peace for the moment, knowing that to resist now was stupid and wasteful. Shane's death had been a reproof to them, and they would learn from it, no matter how humiliating the victors were.

All of this was lost on Thornback, who dwelled on his self-pity, his throbbing pains, his grief at Shane's death, and his rage at Ben's betrayal.

A season passed, and there was no news of great importance to give. It seemed, to Thornback, as though the world waited for him to recover. He sat silently in the cavern for ages and ages, starting to ebb away from his withdrawal. He began to think about the clue again, but every time he dwelled too hard on it, he would think of his humiliation and Shane's death.

One day, Harmonia and Thornback were both napping on opposite sides of the earth walls, when a figure, carrying a lighted torch, entered the little cave.

Harmonia woke instantly to the new sound, and pulled a small knife from her belt. Standing up to confront the character, she saw his face in the light of the torch, and she relaxed.

Thornback had awoken from the smell of the smoke. He heard a vaguely familiar voice,

"It's alright, there, miss Harmonia. I just want to talk to our damaged friend. That's all I want."

Thornback turned around to see who it was, and with a thrill of horror and fury, he saw that it was Ben.

Ben! Thornback was so racked up with emotion that he couldn't speak. He only stared wildly at the raccoon. Ben was still dressed in his top hat, and his usual brown coat, dark green vest, and white undershirt. A gold pocket watch was added to the coat, and he did not carry his shillelagh with him. He looked tired and mildly wretched. 'Fucking serves him right!' Thornback raged, but his tongue seemed to have been frozen. He remembered that Harmonia had applied a pain-killing drug to his sore jaws and his tongue felt deadened.

Ben looked right into Thornback's eyes, and walked towards him. He approached as though he feared Thornback would jump up and strike him.

The raccoon turned to Harmonia, "Get some rest upstairs: I'll look after him down here, Harmonia." The female hare hesitated, but was relieved at the replacement watchdog, and she left with a nod of thanks.

Ben walked over to the other side of the room, watching her leave. Thornback did not break his stare. The raccoon spoke to the badger without even looking at him.

"I've got ninety-three notches in my shillelagh now. I never thought I'd have so many, really: it seemed like I would die before I made so many kills."

He turned to the badger and walked forwards, "My father rejected me too, Thorn. He and my mother had lost our only daughter, and she had always been their favourite child. I was pushed into leaving them, and I doubt they even cared."

Thornback felt a pang of sadness, but he hardened his heart and said nothing.

Ben's face was grim, "You and I, Thornback, our story is as old as the beginning of time. I also know what you've been feeling. You've lost faith in your father and your older brother, and you've been looking for replacements. You'll never admit it, but you know it's true. To you, Ebs was a father, and I was an older brother, one who'd heard the owl and seen the wolf. Ebs died, and you turned to me, as the older brother you never had. Now I've hurt you as much as Roaveen probably did, but not nearly as much as you think."

Thornback said nothing, but fumed at the parallels in Ben's words. He had indeed found a father and brother figure in Ebs and Ben. It was almost a fixation, and he had taken for granted that he would not be disappointed.

But that did not excuse the betrayal: Ben had sold Thornback and Shane out to the enemies. Ben could surely not talk his way out of this!

Thornback felt the effects of the pain killer start to wear off, and he turned around to speak thickly, "You sold my hide! Shane is dead!"

Ben gave a twitch of his jaw, "Taskill tried to hire me to kill you."

Thornback shuddered, and waited for the rest.

Ben paused, and spoke again, "He'd been after me for some time now, wanting me to put my shillelagh through your skull. He'd have made me a rich beast, he said, and he always left with the same answer from me; no. He got more and more threatening, until I realized I'd be murdered in my sleep if I said no one more time.'

'Not only that,' Ben continued, 'but you got strange ideas in your head, and you would have gotten yourself killed if you continued on without an intervention. I made a bargain: you get caught, and the Black Rabbits get humiliated, but you and I both live. Why do you think you reached Taskill's quarters so easily? He was expecting you the whole time, because I told him how you'd be arriving."

Thornback glared, "And Shane?"

Ben shook his head angrily, "Damn you, Thornback, Shane would have killed himself if he had to! He couldn't stand life anymore, so he needed a way to go, but a way to go with honour. He wanted to take Taskill with him, and then cut his own throat even as Taskill breathed his last. I even saw him practice the suicide!" He shuddered uncontrollably, remembering how Shane had dragged the knife blade across his neck in a strange caress.

Thornback was disturbed by this, but he had to go on, "So let's say that you wanted to save my life, then why did you go to his room and talk to him about it?"

Ben gave him a cold, angry stare, and reached for his coat pocket. He drew out a little scroll.

The missing clue to the puzzle of the King's Scroll.

Ben growled, "I thought you'd think of that one yourself."

Thornback was stunned beyond belief. Ben had betrayed him to help him the whole time. He had done his best, and his best had worked.

Ben stood up and looked at the door, almost absent-minded in his bitterness, "Wow, I'm sick of doubt. Living light a certain south, cruel bindings: the servants have the power: dog men and their mean women, pulling poor blankets over our assailers."

He lowered his head, and walked out of the cave, leaving Thornback to think about whether he had lost Ben after all.


	15. Chapter 15

14

Varrus watched with a growing sense of relief in his soul.

He had found several times during the trial that he was enjoying himself thoroughly. It had been exhilarating to eliminate a threat to himself. It was the happiness of a person who had avoided his fate and had defeated the forces meant to destroy him. Varrus felt like that right now as he watched Elfwin being dragged to the makeshift gibbet.

Varrus himself felt shivers of terror when he looked at the swaying noose and the toughened rope that waited to be wrapped around a neck with the sole intention of inflicting death. A hanging could be very quick, or incredibly long, depending on whether the creature's neck broke or not with the fall. It was a chance that one took without the option of backing out.

Elfwin was in a state of horror that was so great that it took Verso and two others to bring her to the noose. Her eyes were wide and tearful; her mouth was open wide and emitting screams and sobs; her struggles were frantic and wild because she knew she was a dead beast.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

No one made any mention of Elial's strange disappearance. It was assumed that he had assisted Elfwin with killing Arly Punto. The hedgehog's murder had devastated the Abbey, for even if he had not been a popular and lovable character, murder at the abbey was almost completely unknown in the peace-loving Abbey's memory. Certainly it had been many seasons of peace and quiet before this incident.

Adisa had burst into the hall, scratched and bruised from his clumsiness in the evening light. He had also been half-delirious with grief over the death of the one creature who had extended kindness to him from the start. He had been reduced to tears as he explained Alonzo's murder to the Abbey, and Varrus had ordered a search for the murderers.

Naturally, the creatures on parole were first examined. The creatures were on parole for being suspect in the murder of Slade, so they were searched for immediately. Adisa was questioned too, but there was no proof, and several of the Abbey Elders vouched for Adisa's peacefulness and dislike of murder. It was soon discovered that two of the paroled creatures were missing.

Elial was never found, for the old fox was certainly many leagues away by now, as Varrus secretly reckoned. Elfwin was discovered next, lying asleep with bloody knives at her side, blood stained on her tunic, and with a scallop shell wrapped up under her head. She had woken up confused, and screamed when the mob shouted for justice. For it had been a mob: the Abbey dwellers had been enraged by the death of their dear companion, and feelings that normally never rose to prominence now took control of the minds of many of the younger Abbey creatures. Some of the older ones, including Mother Sara, were traumatized not only at the death of Arly, but also the vengeful reaction of the others.

Elfwin had been locked away from any other creature, now accused of murdering Adisa. But now she was also on trial for murdering Slade the Sane, whose death had never been solved. Varrus assured the Abbey that he would give all creatures a fair trial, and Elfwin would receive hers like anyone else would.

Little did anyone know that Varrus was staging this like he would an opera. He would stage a trial, starting out even handed at first, but the evidence it turned out would most certainly result in a terrible verdict. Abbott Varrus had not assumed the role of Judge because he was to give information that only a witness could give. The judge was brought in from a settlement three days south from Redwall. His name was Thael, great-grandson of a squirrel by the same name who had founded the settlement.

Thael suited Varrus immediately, for the judge was well-meaning but incredibly naive, and could be fooled easily by a cunning plot. The jury could always be bribed and chosen for their specific answers, for Varrus knew who Thael would choose from the Abbey's population based on the fact that he was Abbott. Thael had protested, but could not ignore the fact that Varrus was the head of the Abbey, and had the right to know what was going on. He gave in to the loop hole, commenting under his breath that trials were much better arranged where he came from.

Varrus surprised himself at how much of a leap he had taken, but he had to admit that once the action was taken, there could be no bridge to go back across. You were in with both feet, or out with both feet. Anyone with one foot on each side was doomed to fail. Varrus knew that well, and had taken the plunge onto the dark road of conspiracy.

Trials were extremely rare things, for they went against the natural ways of the Abbey and other settlements. The way it worked was that one creature was the judge, and they would listen to the evidence provided by the prosecutor and the defendant. The witnesses' statements were recorded, and the those who watched were the jury, for they influenced how the judge would sentence the accused. The defendent was just a respected creature who spoke on behalf of the accused, and the prosecutor was a likewise creature that spoke on behalf of those who had made the accusation.

Elfwin's defendant was an older mouse called Conrad. Conrad was from the same settlement as Judge Thael, but unlike Thael, Conrad had been sent to the Abbey at a young age and had stayed on as a brother ever since. Conrad was getting into late middle-age, but was still spry and fit for his age. He was also highly educated and was said to be replacing old Brother Gores as Abbey Recorder when the latter retired. He wore a pair of small spectacles that clearly seemed to be there only for the appearance. Conrad was a bit vain about his own intelligence, but was usually subtle enough to keep it to himself.

The prosecutor was Brother Gores himself. Gores had been one of the few Abbey Elders who had suggested severe punishment against the murderers of Arly. He was in a position of power now, for Gores' opinion was supported by many of the youth in the Abbey. Plus, he had several key witnesses to bring before the judge.

The trial commenced with the opening speeches. Gores stood up, with the help of a cane due to a recent stiffness in his left leg, and spoke to the audience in a reedy but firm voice.

"Folk of the Abbey now present, we have before us a horrifying truth. The death of Cellar Hog Alonzo Punto!' He paused due to the cries of outrage, 'And we also have before us a creature that is shown to be the murderess of our dear friend!" More screams of outrage followed this, but Elfwin put on a brave attempt to appear composed.

"But we also accuse her of the murder of Brother Slade, a squirrel who has lived in the Abbey for a very long time, and did not deserve such a violent death. I will present my witnesses forward to shed light on the situation brought upon us in the case of Elfwin Squirrel, and the two murders she has committed in our hallowed halls!"

Gores called upon Verso, the former friend of Arly Punto. In a grim voice, the mole talked of how Arly had been threatened by the squirrel with death once she had found out he kept a copy of the key to her room. Elfwin had screamed that it was a lie, and Judge Thael had assured her that her time would come for rebuttal. Verso maintained that Arly had confided in him about the threats, and Gores concluded it with a thank-you to Verso's co-operation.

Next, Gores called upon Sister Val, the Infirmary Head, and asked her what kind of injuries Alonzo Punto had sustained. The body of the hedgehog had been found by Adisa and a few others, and had brought it back for burial. However, the issue of murder called for an autopsy. It had been gruesome work: Arly had been stabbed repeatedly in the head, and as a result, had lost an eye. Half his jaw had been torn away from the repeated strikes of the blades, and Sister Val had little trouble in agreeing that the knives they had found beside Elfwin could most likely have been the same knives that had killed Arly.

Finally, Gores summoned Abott Varrus himself. There was a stir as the Recorder interrogated the Abbott for any information he had.

This part was interesting, for Varrus had interviewed the suspects thoroughly, and might be able to give any background information on the suspects.

Varrus did exactly that. He gave information about her past: how she had lived the life of a recluse for many seasons, getting into fights with vermin and others alike, and how she had fought as a mercenary in a war that had ravaged the north of Mossflower woods several seasons ago.

"But was there anything that might indicate this creature as the murderess of Slade or Arly? Was there any motivation?" Gores inquired.

"Yes,' Varrus stated, 'She is the illegitimate daughter of Slade. He abandoned her as a child and her mother died when she was young. She came here to find her father."

Ignoring the hubbub that this information had caused, Gores turned to speak, "You see, here, our Abbott giving crucial evidence of a murder committed! She was isolated and alone, living in anger against the squirrel that had sired her. When she finally discovered him, she killed him in vengeance of a life that could have been. She then decided to kill Arly in order to gain some valuables with which to barter after her inevitable escape attempt from the Abbey. That is the case here, my fellow Redwallers, and I suggest we treat it accordingly." He sat down, finished for the day.

Judge Thael indicated Conrad to speak.

The mouse stood up and spoke frankly, "I must not deny that two of our own have been murdered, but I do question whether they were killed by this creature. Elfwin's isolation and her independence are not new to this Abbey: is it not our own dear friend Jander who left this Abbey in favour of roaming Mossflower? Squirrels are a mixed lot, and we must not pressure one who wishes no company.'

'Furthermore, I must also protest the immediate assumption that this creature is associated with the death of Alonzo Punto. Even if she had a connection to Slade, then what connection was there to Arly? Brother Gores as spoken of stealing valuables. What valuables was she found with? I call Tellummit to stand witness."

A small chuckle of surprise came from the Redwallers. Tellummit was a merchant who travelled the countryside with his wares. He knew everything about the prices of goods, but this seemed to matter little in the case of murder.

The fat dormouse arrived from the crowd, as he was visiting at the time of Arly's murder, and took his stand in front of the Redwallers. He was dressed in a coat that had been stretched over the seasons with his growing bulk, and he wore a small hat that he had taken off in the solemnity of the times.

Conrad readjusted his tiny spectacles and peered at Tellummit as though he was an actor playing the role of an interrogator, "You have been a merchant and market beast all your life, no?"

Tellummit shrugged, "Well, I've been in the business as long as I can remember. Me father was a merchant, same as I. We ran the same wagon for a time afore his passing, may he rest in peace..."

"Thank you, that will do, Tellummit,' Conrad interrupted, 'Could you give us a good estimate of what kind of value an object may have in the market?"

Tellummit shrugged again, "Aye, I suppose. But it would depend on the object and who the buyers are."

Conrad turned to the court attendents in general, "Who posesses the objects Elfwin supposedly stole from Arly?"

Mother Sara came forward, for she had been appointed to guard the evidence. All supported that, for she was an honest creature with a stern knowledge of right and wrong. She handed Conrad the scallop shell and the brooch that had been found on Elfwin.

Conrad nodded his thanks, and handed the objects to Tellummit for examination, "What do you make of these objects, Tellummit? A big profit for bartering?"

The dormouse chuckled, causing his jowls and his stomach to wobble, "Lord no, my good mouse. These trinkets are useless for anyone who wants something that could help them in survival. No one near the sea would want to trade something for this, and the brooch is well-made, but pointless. Who needs a brooch except those who can afford to barter for it? That squirrel would have to be lucky to find someone who would want to spend time of a busy day to haggle over these 'ere things."

Conrad smiled pleasantly, "Thank you, old boy. You may step down."

Tellummit paused for a moment and gave a little glance at Conrad, who was two thirds his age. Tellummit did not know whether to take offense or not, but decided to let it pass. He returned the possessions to Conrad, who in turn gave them to Mother Sara.

Conrad turned around to the audience again, "Now, the valuables Elfwin took are of little to no value. Now, we must remember something: Elial is not present here to be accounted for. The fox could easily have murdered our friend, and then framed Elfwin here to buy him time to escape. This possibility is far too great to go unnoticed by our Abbey Council, is it not?" Conrad turned to the Elders, most of whom nodded in return.

Thael interrupted Conrad, "I hate to interrupt you, sir, but the court will now close for the day. Supper is near, and I'm assuming the Dibbuns need food, so I call everyone off for the moment." He got up and headed for his quarters to change out of his judge's robes.

The others dispersed, except for Conrad, who assigned two guards to take Elfwin back to her room. He himself left for the kitchens, as it was his turn as a volunteer that day.

Varrus got up and began to leave, feeling very cold. He had to make sure that Elfwin lost the case, but Conrad was a smart mouse, and would doubtless find more flaws in the accusations. He had to disable Conrad completely, but how?

A thought came to him immediately, and he turned to Verso, "Elfwin must not win the case."

Verso nodded. He had grown more loyal to the Abbott now, with this situation, and he was also angry and grieving, "Wot are we gunna do? Wot ef et's tha fox whech moordered Arly? 'E's long gone, billyo!"

Varrus shook his head, "No, I don't think it was Elial. Arly would have killed Elial before that old creature could do anything back to him. I am sure that it was Elfwin, because she is strong from living out on her own. She would have easily ambushed and murderd Alonzo." Deep down, Varrus was surprised at how he was talking. He felt as though he had gone back to the days of his youth, when cunning was necessary to get your way, whatever the law might say.

Verso too was surprised, but he also liked what he heard. He wanted vengeance, as youth tend to seek when deeply hurt, "Wot do we do abowt Brother Conrad?"

Varrus had decided to leave Conrad alone; the mouse was had a lot of light on him, and was certainly able to defend himself. It was Elfwin that could be targeted without much attention. Varrus had kept in mind that the guards of Elfwin were both former friends of Arly. Conrad had made that one fatal mistake, and though seemingly trivial, it would prove decisive.

Varrus gave Verso a message, to be passed through word of mouth from one friend of Verso's to the guards. It was harder to catch them that way.

The guards had their orders, and they knew it would the court would be held again in the morning, for dinner usually took a long time, and anyway, there was no time factor involved with the trial.

The two guards, a hedgehog named Brigge and an otter named Wullock, made sure that the Abbey had gotten past the grace before starting dinner, and then they laid the plan in motion.

Elfwin had barely started to eat her own dinner when the two guards grabbed her, and marched her to the room that had once been occupied by Slade the Sane for many seasons. Some frightened Dibbuns had insisted that the ghost of Slade haunted the room, and his demented laughter was said to be heard at night.

Elfwin was made to stay awake, and continually splashed with cold water and abuse. The two guards took turns sleeping and eating as they tortured her. Her muffled wails would not be heard, and they had all night to do this.

The reason for it was simple: confess the crime of double murder, and it would end. She might even be punished less for confessing, and she might even be able to go free. Such lies are always believed under torture. The torture was excruciating to her, and Varrus knew she would crack. He had seen the torture committed several times in his life. He was relieved that Brigge and Wullock and Verso had been so deeply traumatized by the murders. Damaged souls could easily be manipulated, and thus damaging theirs souls further, in an endless cycle where they were psychological slaves.

Varrus was later told in the morning that Elfwin had agreed to confess after five hours of torture. That meant she had been given enough time to get some rest and not appear too ruffled up to the audience.

When Judge Thael resumed the trial, Elfwin gave a full confession to the judge and the audience. She gave details only the killer might know, and sat back down, a terrified expression on her face, but also hopeful, for she still tried to believe the promises during the torture.

Conrad had not expected this: his expression clearly demonstrated it. He fiddled with his glasses, he opened his mouth repeatedly, and finally sat down with a disgruntled sigh of frustration and humiliation. Varrus was relieved that the mouse had been taught his place.

Thael was taken aback by the confession, but played on it anyway. He ruled that she would be hanged for the murder of her father, and the murder of Alonzo Punto. A few Abbey dwellers clapped, but almost all were stunned into silence. No one had ever been executed within the walls of Redwall in all it's history. The worst punishment the Abbey dwellers had ever given was exile, and that had not been done in many generations.

Now, however, Elfwin was to hang in the courtyard. The Dibbuns were kept inside by Mother Sara, who told them it was raining heavily. She herself was shaken deeply about this ruling. The Abbey had never done something like this before: what had gone wrong?

Varrus was pleased that his plea to Thael had worked. After supper, Varrus had personally escorted Thael to his room, all the while explaining the public opinion of the murderess. If she was found guilty, he had said, no punishment short of death would be accepted. Thael had believed him, having known other settlements where killers and even thieves were lynched on the nearest tree. Even peace-loving creatures sometimes wanted death to those who they felt deserved it.

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Elfwin wailed as the bag was placed over her head by Wullock and Verso while Brigge held her in a headlock. Several Abbey dwellers either left or turned their heads, for the sight was too much to bear.

Varrus too was shaken. On the one hand, he was glad, because it prevented him from being antagonized, but in truth, he feared hanging more than anything in the world. He hated the sickening crunch of a creature's neck, the gasping of a creature trying to breathe, the silly jigs of a dying animal, the urine released just moments from death. It was too much to bear for Varrus, and he turned away as Wullock attached a noose around the squirrel's neck.

Varrus felt sick as he listened to the cries of the squirrel, and his mind began to paint an image before his eyes: he was being hanged, watched by a mob who howled for his blood. He saw the hate and fury in their eyes, and he believed so strongly in his being hanged that he felt short of breath. The old otter tried to relax and get back to reality, but the hanging had shaken him terribly, even more when the ghost of Arly had looked upon him. It was something unbearable to imagine.

It was a quick death. Elfwin struggled so furiously, that when the box was kicked from under her, her neck broke quickly, and she died in a heartbeat.

Varrus, despite his trembling, breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The murderess of Slade was dead, and he could now focus on getting rid of Adisa for good.


	16. Chapter 16

**15**

Ætharr stood outside the room where Rosheen lay, unsure of what to do. Judos, Tiarnan, and Cocoran were there too, each one as anxious as Ætharr.

The Ealdor did not know what to do. His wife was in the room, in labour as he was thinking about it. Shouldn't he be in there? Comforting her, holding her hand? It probably did not hurt so badly, but still, he should be there.

"I know how you feel, so I do."

Ætharr looked up from his thoughts to see that Tiarnan was leaned up against the wall next to him. The Falcarragh chief looked shrewdly into the his son-in-law's eyes, as if reading the fears preying on Ætharr's mind. Ætharr suddenly considered looking away to avoid the scrutiny, but decided it would seem weak.

Tiarnan gave a smile of encouragement, "I'm glad she found a beast she truly loves. She was always choosy as a young lass...she's still quite young if I think about it.' He paused, perhaps reminding himself that she was now an adult, about to be a mother, 'I used to get a lot of requests to court her. I have a number of strong sons to help me when I get older, and only one daughter, so there was never a lack of an aspiring boy or a loyal captain that asked my permission for her hand. But she wouldn't have it. She wanted to find her own sweetheart, some way, somehow. I'd never have guessed it would happen the way it did."

Ætharr knew it was not an insult: Tiarnan had simply not foreseen the events that had taken place, "It's funny, but I don't remember ever proposing to her."

Tiarnan's face grew serious, "And why did you not do that?"

The weasel looked at the Falcarragh chief's stern gaze. "I never proposed to her,' Ætharr responded, 'because I knew that she would marry me. I knew that the request was not needed."

Tiarnan raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "When did this happen?"

Ætharr thought about it, "In my case, the first time she looked at me was the longest moment I've ever held in my life."

Tiarnan chuckled merrily, and thumped his son-in-law on the shoulder, "Good boy! I know exactly what it feels like."

Ætharr, however, knew that what he had described was desire, not love. He had not finished his explanation, and he knew that Tiarnan knew it as well.

He continued on, "Afterwards it was as if she had been meant to find me. She's fiercely free-willed, but she's also kind-hearted. She would always listen, and be able to give answers to any questions. And,' Here Ætharr grinned fondly, 'she fought with me in battle as well as any warrior."

Tiarnan almost burst out laughing, "Aye, my little Rosh is a fighter. I remember my boyo over there,' he pointed out Cocoran as he spoke, 'Now Cocoran is five seasons older than Rosheen, and was once nearly twice as big. I doubt I've ever seen someone so terrorized in my life. I don't know how such a little girl at the time could be so sharp-toothed. He wouldn't have dared hit her at that age, but he could probably have knocked her head off with one blow. He's strong as an oak, that one!"

Tiarnan smiled proudly at his eldest son, who was trying to pretend that he could not hear them.

"But when she got older,' he continued, 'Well, then the brothers got into their heads that they outnumbered her, and they could fight back. I can still remember the fights that Rosheen got into with her brothers for refusing to back down. She'd have her nose bleeding like a waterfall, her would have her rib cracked, and she'd still be cursing them as she tried to swing a punch! A true fighter she was. Her mother would have been proud."

Rosheen had told Ætharr how her mother had died, so Ætharr decided to ask Tiarnan now that the subject had been raised, "Rosheen told me that her mother died right after she was born."

"Aye, about two minutes afterwards,' Tiarnan answered, 'poor thing died in childbirth, which is a rare thing, of course, but it happens. I told her about it when she was old enough so she wouldn't be surprised and have it told when she was an adult. I wanted her to live with it in acceptance, and she's done so, to my relief. It's funny, but I always forget that two of Rosheen's brothers are half-brothers. It's as if they were pure siblings, the way they got along."

Ætharr nodded. He envied Rosheen: she was able to live with the pain, and had moved on from it.

Suddenly, the doctor came up, "Sirs, the Lady Rosheen is ready, the first one is coming right now."

Ætharr's blood froze for a full three seconds, and it seemed as though he had forgotten how to breathe. However, he went in immediately, followed by Tiarnan and Cocoran. Judos preferred to stay behind, seeing as this moment would be far too intimate for anyone outside the family.

Rosheen was gasping heavily and sweating. Ætharr put a comforting paw on her shoulders, but could not find any words to say. He was transfixed by this important moment.

The doctor took his leave, telling them to call him if necessary. He would not have to assist Rosheen with anything unless something went terribly wrong. Birth was something most could do on their own.

Rosheen gave a little moan of pain, and Tiarnan's jaw tightened, "The first one is coming: it should be out very soon, now."

Ætharr could scarcely believe it. He could not believe that the world existed beyond this little room.

All of a sudden there was a little call. Not from Rosheen, not from her family, not from anyone outside the room.

The first child of Ætharr and Rosheen.

The infant's eyes were closed, and it was devoid of hair. It called out in a very high, squeaky sort of voice. The head twitched as it breathed it's first breaths.

Ætharr picked the child up, half-wrapping it a small piece of cloth. It was small, fragile, and it was his child.

Cocoran had gone for the doctor and now came back with him at his side. The doctor walked up to the Ealdor, "My lord, if you would like me to see if it is healthy."

Ætharr looked up at him as if seeing another person for the first time in his life, but responded immediately, "Of course." Gingerly handing the infant to the doctor, he watched as the child was examined with much care and delicacy.

The doctor smiled, content. He turned to the Ealdor, "Your son is well and healthy, my lord. He will be a strong beast, I'll say that."

His son. Ætharr's eyes filled with tears as he took the infant in his arms once more. He was overcome; this little creature, who would soon be a tall and strong weasel, was his son. What he and Rosheen had created. It was unbelievable, and overwhelming. He place his ear to the little chest, and listened to the heartbeat. The child pulsed with life, wanting to live.

He also wanted his mother's milk. Ætharr placed him in Rosheen's arms, who was also overcome at her child. The infant began to suckle, just as Rosheen felt another spasm.

The doctor placed the second child between Ætharr and Rosheen, for the two were now lying on the bed side by side. The second child was placed next to the first child. The doctor announced that the second child was also a boy.

Cocoran looked at the infants admiringly, "You know, I'd say one of 'em looks like you did, Rosh. At least, I think he does."

"Well let's hope that he grows up like his mother, then." Tiarnan responded. He was also in tears, gazing upon his grandchildren.

Ætharr was suddenly curious, despite this moment, "Are these your first grandchildren, Tiarnan?"

Tiarnan nodded silently, now watching the third child begin to suckle.

Ætharr kissed Rosheen, "Are you alright?"

Rosheen sighed in her happiness, "I don't think I'll ever be this happy again."

Cocoran shook his head grimly, "Take it from our father, you won't."

It was as if it broke a spell. Tiarnan suddenly burst out laughing, "Now that's the smartest thing you've said in your life, son!" He got up and thumped Cocoran on the back, and the two of them laughed.

Rosheen laughed too, but not as loudly as her father and brother. Ætharr merely smiled, for he was now watching the fourth child suckling its mother's milk. The doctor saw what he was looking at, "It's your first daughter, lord."

Rosheen heard it, "Oh, a little girl!"

Cocoran rolled his eyes, "I hope she takes after her father's side!" This provoked more laughter from Rosheen and Tiarnan, each remembering their past.

Ætharr, for the briefest second, felt incredibly lonely at that moment. He was surrounded by Rosheen's family: he had nothing against them, but they were lucky enough to see this. He wished suddenly to have the mother he had never known, but more importantly the father he had known.

But the moment passed as soon as it came. He had a new family, children to raise.

The four infants made almost no noise as they greedily consumed their mother's milk. All were healthy babes, as the doctor put it.

Ætharr suddenly remembered the important job of naming the infants. He realized that Calador had to be honoured. He could not abandon the traditions of his country, so he got Rosheen's attention.

"Rosheen, the heir of Calador must have an ash at the beginning of his name. It must be so. That is all I ask of you, to be able to name the eldest son with an ash."

Rosheen did not hesitate, "It's a good tradition. I was hoping to name one in such a manner anyway."

Ætharr looked at the eldest child, who was still suckling. He gently picked up the pup from his mother's side, the baby still making the motion of suckling. Milk dripped from the child's mouth, and he began to gurgle in protest.

Ætharr smiled, his heart warmed as a father's is when he sees his delicate baby. "Call Judos in. I must have a theign witness this christening."

He looked at the closed eyelids wondering what he should name his son. He thought of naming him after his father, but knew that he could not bear to do so for fear of ill fortune. He thought of another well-sounding name, one that would be associated with a great warrior and leader...

"Ætharr?"

The weasel looked away. Judos was standing in the doorway, staring at Tiarnan and Cocoran standing next to the bed, Rosheen lying on her side, suckling three little pups, and Ætharr holding the fourth in his paws. The otter's face broke into a smile, and gave a small bow to Rosheen. She grinned at his mock chivalry, and beckoned him to come in.

Ætharr looked at his best friend, happy that he was here of all the theigns to witness the naming of the heir, "Judos, a theign must witness the naming of the heir to Calador's Ealdorship. This honour is yours."

"Nothing could be more important, Ætharr.' Judos responded, 'What is his name to be?"

Ætharr made one last glance at Rosheen, as if ensuring her permission, to which Rosheen nodded her consent.

He then turned to Judos, and spoke, "I call you to witness Ædron. The heir of Calador, and my eldest son."

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Judos knelt, without any mockery. Seriousness was stamped on his face, and in the otter's mind, he realized this was where he truly became a theign of Calador.

He looked at the little infant, making mewing noises in his father's arms. Ædron would be raised to match up to a large legacy, not only from his father, but also from the previous Ealdors of the past. Judos knew that Ætharr would do everything he could to help his son achieve that status, and the otter hoped he too could be of assistance in the matter.

Judos looked at the other three, "What are their names to be?"

Rosheen smiled, "We hadn't gotten that far yet, Judos. We called you in here to witness their naming."

Ætharr looked at the remaining three children, "Two of them are sons, and the youngest is the daughter.' He looked at his wife, 'Rosheen, did you have any desires in their names?"

Rosheen nodded, "I would like to give the daughter a Falcarragh name."

Ætharr smiled, "Any ideas?" He sounded as though he knew the answer.

Rosheen answered, "I've always wanted to name my daughter Nuala. It's such a pretty name; it was also the name of my mother."

The Ealdor nodded, "Nuala she will be."

Cocoran chuckled, "Nuala means astonishingly lovely in the Falcarragh tongue."

Ætharr nodded, "Let's hope she gets her mother's looks, then. The prophecy may become true."

The weasels and the otter laughed at the joke, all the while the infants suckled.

Tiarnan looked at the two sons remaining to be named, "And what are these laddies to be named, eh?"

Cocoran looked at the bigger of the children, "I have always liked the name Lorcan, so I have."

Rosheen thought of it, "I like that name, too. He will be named Lorcan."

Tiarnan's eyes lit up, "Ah that's a name of Falcarragh origins. It means 'silent', or 'fierce'. A warrior's name, that is."

Ætharr nodded, "And a warrior he shall be. Lorcan will be a great leader."

He looked at the youngest of his sons, "And the last one? I suggest we name him with a Calador name, since we already have Lorcan and Nuala.' He grinned at Judos, 'We'll have to keep Ædron company."

Judos grinned, "May I suggest an idea?"

Ætharr nodded, "Go on."

Judos spoke again, "Since you have an Ealdor, and you have a warrior, why not an administrator? Your father always told you that brains are more dangerous than brawn, did he not?"

Ætharr froze, hesitated, and spoke, "That he did. That he did."

He looked at the last son, "There was an ancestor of my father's, four generations back. He did not become Ealdor, but he was his brother's most trusted advisors. He was wise in the ways of dealing with creatures, and was loyal to his brother until their deaths.' He looked at Rosheen, 'His name was Ædelmær."

Rosheen was intrigued by this history, and she liked the use of two ashes in the name, "So be it, then."

Judos looked at the children, now lined up once again in order of age: Ædron, Lorcan, Ædelmær, and Nuala. All of them filled with a promise in life.

Ætharr spoke again, "Judos son of Judos, Rosheen and I have discussed this with each other a long time now, and we would like you to swear an oath to look out for our children."

Judos nodded, "Gladly."

Ætharr was not satisfied, "I want you to swear upon my entrance into the Warrior's Hall. Should you betray me, you shall betray me for eternity, and your soul will be cursed forever."

Judos was taken aback at how commanding this order had become. He would be bound to help in the protection of their children, until he died, or until Ætharr released him from the oath. It could easily become a lifetime of service.

But Judos was young, and indebted to Ætharr for helping him get out of Oorlog. Also, Judos had nowhere else to go, as he saw it, and he loved Ætharr like a brother. All these reasons were reasons that Judos would later claim caused his actions, but also because he was young and foolish. The last two reasons were a joke, even to Judos, for he somehow knew that he would have to make sacrifices to be in Ætharr's service.

He inclined his head, "I agree to your terms. I swear upon your entrance to the Hall of the Warriors."

He would later admit that he truly had had no idea of how much his life would be affected by this oath.


	17. Chapter 17

_**16**_

Ben sat alone, staring into his mug of ale as though a diamond was going to be created at the bottom of the mug.

It had been a week since the celebration at Taskill's headquarters, which had turned into an execution and torture. Ben knew all the details, for he had sat through it all, staring at the two victims with a deadened look, as the mercenary he was.

He had watched as Taskill had branded Thornback's face and had listened to the screams of Shane. Taskill finished with Thornback after the branding, and had turned his attention to the slow death of Shane. The crowd of Nativists followed him blindly, like a mindless mob watching a gladiator fight.

Almost no one noticed the raccoon grab the badger under his forelegs and drag him out of the castle. The raccoon was very strong, but even he could not have carried the badger.

Ben hoped that the letter he had sent to the doctor before arriving late to the party would have reached him by now. He had precious little time to get Thornback into the cave systems, away from the rampant Nativists who would notice his and Thornback's absence. Taskill would not care about their disappearance, but he would not restrain any lynch mobs pursuing the raccoon.

Ben had his shillelagh ready, hanging from the loop around his paw as he dragged Thornback into the cellars of the castle. He had worried about Thornback's condition, and the fact that it was getting worse with the steps he was being dragged down, but Ben knew that Taskill could not be trusted. Taskill had publicly stated only a short time ago that Thornback did not deserve to be killed by him, but Taskill would probably have few qualms about sending someone else to do the job of finishing him off.

Ben went into the cellars and the dungeons of the castle. No one was being kept prisoner as of late, which served Ben well as he opened up a trapdoor leading to the caves. The raccoon was suddenly faced with a problem. How to get Thornback into the cellar? Simply pushing him into the drop would threaten to break his neck.

Ben looked around him. There were several wooden boxes, lying stacked up in the corner of the room. Ben got an idea: breaking the box apart with his shillelagh, he took one of the sides and propped it so that it was like a slide into the trapdoor. He rolled Thornback onto the make-shift slide, and pushed him downwards. He followed suit, making sure to close the trapdoor.

As he close the trapdoor, he wondered why the Black Rabbits had never thought of using the cave system to get into the castle. It seemed so obvious didn't it?

Even as he was thinking this, a voice called out, "Halt!"

Ben froze, and called out in a Highlands accent, "Hi there, yoo, what the fook are ye doing, scarin' the bezoomny ootae me like that! Who the hell do ye think y'are?"

The raccoon had a good eyesight in the dark, and though the caves were almost absolutely dark, he could see, in the gloom, the shapes of two hares, armed with long pikes, coming his way very cautiously. They did not see who it was, but they had been reassured by the accent.

It was all the advantage Ben needed. Gripping his shillelagh, he crept forwards, careful to hug the shadows.

The hares did not see him, for they had not heard him moving. As far as they knew, he was standing in the same spot where he had yelled from. Neither of them were aware of it when Ben slew them with two lightening swings of his shillelagh.

Now Ben had to move even faster: he had no idea how many guards were stationed in the caves, and he had to move quickly. Looking around for more guards, Ben noticed a little wagon, containing a lantern, food, and additional weapons. Supplies for the two guards he had slain.

Pulling Thornback onto the wagon, Ben started to run in the direction he perceived was south-west, the direction of the Black Rabbits' territory. He hoped he wasn't making too much noise with the wagon, for he could not use the element of surprise forever. Ben did not look at Thornback once, but worried about his condition. What was to be done with him? Could he be helped? The raccoon had seen much pain in his time, but Taskill was the master of inflicting pain. Ben wondered if he might find the doctor along the way. That would be a relief.

Ben discarded the top despised top hat he had forced himself to wear, and he kept running. He was suddenly scared, scared of his mortality, for anyone could ambush him right now and kill him. He was scared of the fact that Thornback might be dying, or was already dead. Ben dared not stop now to apply any treatment he might be able to give; he would leave that to the professionals.

Suddenly, another voice called out. Ben shuddered, and raised his shillelagh. He heard the rapid approaching footsteps of five or six hares. Ben growled to himself and retreated into a little tunnel to his right.

Peering out, he saw that they had three torches, and they would not be so easily surprised. They stared at Thornback's body, oblivious of what had happened at Taskill's party. They knew that Thornback couldn't have gotten this way by himself, so there was another creature hiding somewhere.

Ignoring, Thornback, the hares decided that the second beast must have run back the way he came, and they all sped off.

Ben breathed a deep sigh of relief to stop himself shaking, but it did not help.

He grabbed the wagon, and ran like he'd never run before. Later on, he would wonder how Thornback, who was bigger than the wagon, managed to stay in it at the speed the raccoon had gone.

Ben suddenly saw a little flag in the failing light. It was a light colour, with a black rabbit running on the flag.

Ben gasped for air, and yelled out, "To me! To me! Black Rabbits to me!"

Immediately, four guards ran up, ready to slay whoever had called. When they saw the raccoon, they relaxed.

Maon came running up, "Wot in the name of...?" He stopped dead when he saw Thornback.

Ben spoke quickly and urgently, "The doctor's on his way. Get Harmonia down here to help the doctor out, and you watch for any Nativists."

Maon could only nod, and order the four guards to help him carry Thornback to a smaller cave.

Ben went up from the caves into the Black Rabbits' headquarters. He bulled his way through questions, telling them all to go down to the cave to see for themselves.

Only one creature challenged him: Raga stood in front of the door, barring Ben from leaving, "What happened, Ben?" There was a threatening tone in the mouse's voice.

Ben didn't care; he wanted to get out before anyone made any assumptions beforehand, "Thornback's plan failed, and Shane's dead. Thornback's hurt real bad."

Raga was suddenly very suspicious, "How did you know about this?"

"Thornback told me about it. He trusts me more than you it seems." The last sentence was a purpose insult, for Ben was getting really annoyed with Raga.

Raga flushed angrily, "Be careful to whom you speak, raccoon."

"I speak to you however I want, you little fuck! Now get out of my way!" Ben moved forward fast, aiming to push Raga out of the way and head out.

Raga was not intimidated. Expecting the charge, he stepped to the side and elbowed the raccoon in the ribs. Ben, who had been running as hard as he could only fifteen minutes before, had the wind knocked out of him with this blow.

"Do not think you can bully me with your language and your love for violence!' Raga was furious, but satisfied that he had won the upper hand, 'Taskill has foreseen your journey, and has graciously informed us of your betrayal."

Ben was shocked, not only at this quick move from Taskill, but also the fact that Raga believed the message just so he could have reason to punish Ben, "He's a liar! How can you just..."

"Oh don't worry, I thought he was lying too, but then a number of your customers saw you leaving your shop with a top hat on your head."

Ben was stunned, for now he was in deep trouble. Not only would the Black Rabbits think that he was a traitor, but now his customers would assume he was a Nativist and would now treat him as such.

"Oh fuck." Ben groaned aloud, as he massaged his ribs.

Raga pushed the door open, "Get out. Get out, you scum, and don't come back." Ben expected that Raga would kick him as he crawled out, but the mouse had principles, and did not want to hit a downed opponent.

Ben felt humiliated at the thought of being downed by Raga. He was now branded a traitor, and he didn't know how much punishment he would receive because of it. Had they told Maon about his top hat? If they hadn't, Raga would make sure they did. Would Maon believe he was a traitor? In the light of Shane's death, he just might.

Ben felt sick as he walked back to his home, defeated. He didn't even look at the graffiti entitled "NATIVIST" on his door. He just wanted to crawl up in his bed and wish it had all been a dream.

And of course it was not. He was now a Nativist in the eyes of the Black Rabbit supporters, and he was also a Black Rabbit in the eyes of the Nativist supporters. Since neither side cared too much about what the other was saying, Ben was hated on all sides. The raccoon's sales fell low, almost to nothing. A few loyal customers continued to visit, such as the old hare who had been his first customer, but most were driven off by the pressure of others. People just wanted to go to market, and Ben's name was blacklisted.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "

After a season, it had died down a little, but Ben was still treated with the highest suspicion. All doubted him, and he was getting sick of it all. He thought of leaving the Highlands, but somehow found that he couldn't. He had worked hard to establish himself as a neutral shop owner, and he had made a large profit. Was he now to be driven away once it wasn't all clear sailing? It was cowardly, and Ben knew it. But he also had another reason.

He cared for Thornback. He had not seen it happen, but he had grown attached to the badger that reminded himself so much of him. He did not want to leave his friends to fight Taskill and his ruthless gang. He wanted to help, not to run away when things got hard, as he had always done...

Looking back on his life, he saw that he had run whenever things got hard. He had run away from his parents instead of trying to comfort them and help them, he had lived life as a mercenary, and he had constantly moved around in his life. Now he had found something he truly gave a damn about, and he did not want to have memories of his parents and flinch. He wanted to succeed for once, to have a cause worth fighting for for once.

But it was hard. He dared not visit the Black Rabbits anymore, so he did not know what condition Thornback was in. Ben suddenly wished he had put the clue in Thornback's coat or something, so that he wouldn't have to return and face anger and hate.

But he forced himself to go, after a long season of little action.

Thornback reacted the way Ben had expected, but to his disappointment, Thornback had not made any connections on his own. He had listened to Raga and the others, and had not thought about the things he knew. But Ben did not wholly blame him for that: it was just the fact that Thornback was so angry with the raccoon, that it hurt Ben to see his friend like this.

He had left, quoting another song from the quartet he listened to, ""Wow, I'm sick of doubt. Living light a certain south, cruel bindings: the servants have the power: dog men and their mean women, pulling poor blankets over our assailers." And he had left.

It became clear to him that he was not wanted anymore. What was the point of hanging around when he was not wanted anymore? It hurt Ben like a stab in the heart: this was the second time in his life that he had been pushed away and rejected.

He didn't want to leave. He had decided to make his stand here, and if he left, all would have been for nothing. But what choice did he have? Maybe he was doomed to be a mercenary forever? Maybe he was meant to wander: he had seen much of the world and had been impressed by it. Perhaps he could explore more of it?

Eventually, as Ben thought about it cynically, he had broken all ties that kept him here. All thought him a traitor and an opportunist, and his store was no longer a success. Perhaps this was the sign that he could be independent and free again. Free to wander the earth and see the sights of the world again. To meet a multitude of creatures again, to live alone in the forests, hunting for your food and sleeping under the stars... in the face of depression, any way out seemed glorious.

And these thoughts of what he could now do caused Ben to make up his mind once and for all.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" """ """ "" "

Thornback and the others heard about Ben from the commotion. A number of civilians had screamed and called for help. The noise attracted the attention of the Black Rabbits.

At first no one had any idea of what had happened. Raga had taken charge, calling to an older hare, he called out, "Sir! What is the matter?"

The old hare looked horrified, "Fire. Get water, lad, and be quick about it!"

Thornback and the others shuddered, for fire could devastate whole neighbourhoods in their rampage.

Jander and Skipper, who went to the top windows to find the location of the fire, called down, "Aye, it's a fire! Looks like it's Ben's place!"

Thornback went pale. No, he thought, not Ben, not after how I've treated him...

Raga snorted, "We'll have to put the fire out to save the other houses. Come on, now."

Thornback didn't heed the call for water. He started out the house, when Raga called to him, "Not you Thornback! You're still too hurt!"

Thornback knew that if he only had one leg, he would have made that journey to see if Ben was alright. He went as fast as his healing injuries allowed. Some noticed Thornback and his scars, and they remembered that this was the creature whom Taskill had humiliated. Most, however, were too occupied with the threat of the fire.

Ben's store had just started to burn. Ben was standing outside it, his back to the crowd. He was on the slope, his shillelagh, his fiddle, his old rucksack, and a satchel beside him. He wore his old garments from when he had first arrived. He was watching his home burn.

Thornback called out, "Ben! What are you doing!"

Ben heard the shout and turned. There was a wild light in his eyes, the kind of look that one has when he truly does not care about consequences and loves the commotion. The raccoon had a grin on his face that looked half wild, half grim.

He saw Thornback, and the other prominent members of the Black Rabbits arriving. They joined the small crowd gathering to see this spectacle. A few began to approach the slope to help put the fire out, but Ben suddenly picked up his shillelagh and pointed it at them. He also had his battleaxe across his back, and his threatening appearance caused the crowd to fall silence and back away.

Raga screamed up at the raccoon, "Stand aside, you lunatic! Have you gone totally insane!"

Ben spat at the mouse, and began to sing as loud as he could,

_L.a. woman, l.a. woman  
L.a. woman sunday afternoon, __L.a. woman sunday afternoon,__L.a. woman sunday afternoon__  
Head through your suburbs  
Into your blues, into your blues, yeah  
Into your blue-blue blues  
Into your blues, ohh, yeah_

The fire continued to burn, gaining more momentum. Ben was oblivious of it behind him, enjoying the crowd's reaction.

Thornback was shocked at these actions, for he knew that this was intentional from Ben: he was destroying all ties to the Highlands and was going to leave.

"Ben! Don't go! I was wrong! I'm sorry for thinking you were a traitor!"

Ben looked down at him and sang a verse that Thornback knew was directed at him.

_I see your hair is burnin  
Hills are filled with fire  
If they say I never loved you  
You know they are a liar_

At the last line, Ben glanced at Raga, who was so surprised at the events that he could only open and shut his mouth.

A few Nativists had showed up too, and they stared, amused at this sight.

Ben suddenly lost all child-like mirth, and he suddenly began to chant a new series of words,

_Mr. mojo risin, _

_mr. mojo risin_

_mr. mojo risin_

_mr. mojo risin_

_ gotta keep on risin_

_Mr. mojo risin_

_mojo risin_

_Gotta mojo risin_

_Mr. mojo risin  
_

_Gotta keep on risin_

_risin, risin,  
_

_Im gone risin, risin_

_I gotta risin, risin  
_

_Well, risin, risin  
_

_I gotta, wooo, yeah, risin  
_

_Woah, ohh yeah_

With every line, Ben sung faster and faster, just as his house became a massive beacon, flames licking out everywhere. Ben's voice was over the crackling of the wood, over the whispers of the crowd, and over everything else it seemed. He dominated the crowd, consuming them with the power of his sonorous voice and the quoted lyrics he sang. Even without instruments it was incredible. It made for a terrifying spectacle, but an awesome spectacle nonetheless.

Ben laughed out loud, and picked up everything beside him, now his only possessions. He walked down the slope, his shillelagh held ready in case anyone tried to stop him from leaving. He began to sing again as he headed for the south of the city, and thus leaving the northern country.

_Well, I just got into town about an hour ago  
_

_Took a look around, see which way the wind blow  
_

_Where the pretty girls in their little old bungalows  
_

_Are you a lucky little lady in the city of light  
_

_Or just another lost angel...city of night  
_

_City of night, city of night, city of night, woah, cmon..._

Thornback wept as he watched Ben leave. He would never see Ben again, never talk with him or be able to truly apologize. He would live with the guilt for the rest of his life.

Beside him, Raga was outraged, "What is the matter with you, Thornback? That creature betrayed you to the enemy, he caused the death of Shane, and now he's risked many people's lives because he got caught in the act of treachury!"

Thornback calmly turned his head, and looked at Earnan, Maon, Priam, Jander, Skipper, and Raga. He pulled out the second clue, "This is what Ben got us."

Their look of surprise was mildly satisfying, but it would not be enough. Never enough to erase the fact that Ben had been forced into exile.

Maon looked sad. He had never been rude to Ben, nor had he forbidden him to come, and he had liked the raccoon, "He also saved yer life."

Thornback looked confused, "What?"

That was when Maon told them the story of how Ben had dragged Thornback through Taskill's castle, into the tunnels, and had fought with several guards in order to rescue Thornback. He told of how he had been the one who had written for the doctor.

At first, Thornback was livid. How could Maon not have stood up for Ben? But then he thought about it and realized that there was no way Maon could have done anything other than seal his own fate. And Thornback too had kept the clue to himself instead of using it to clear Ben's name.

Harmonia read his thoughts, "Thornback, Maon didn't keep quiet. He told everyone about it, including Raga.' here she shot Raga a look of anger, 'Raga however, believes that Ben handled it terribly and might have done it for personal glory. Maybe there could have been another way, but I say this; he was a good creature, and a noble friend." Raga was frozen, thinking about the story Maon had told, and also the revelation of Thornback's clue.

Thornback was confused, "Why didn't he come back for so long, then?"

Raga looked down at his feet, "That would be my fault. I believed he was a traitor, because of the fact that a number of hares had seen him go to the castle with a top hat. I had no knowledge of what he did afterwards, I just knew he had gone to a Nativist party and that Shane had died and Thornback had been wounded. I accused him of being a traitor, and we quarreled. He left in shame and humiliation."

Thornback wanted to strangle the mouse Warrior, but could not. He felt sorry for Raga: the mouse had been left in the dark about the plan, and he had done what he thought was right.

Of course, there was little point in laying blame on anyone, for Ben was gone and he was not coming back.


	18. Chapter 18

**17**

Ætharr shivered as he walked through the dark forest.

He could feel the heat of the sun at his back, but the trees grew so thick that they distorted the light. His vision was plagued with shadows and they seemed to move of their own accord.

The Ealdor wondered where he was. He remembered that he was out hunting, but did not know what he was hunting for. Was he looking for an adder? Yes that must be it.

He continued on, prowling in the brush, wondering if he would find anything soon. Ætharr looked to his left and right, his senses strangely dulled.

That was when the adder rose in front of him, hissing fiercely.

Ætharr started in surprise and waited for the fatal poisonous bite that would come before any chance to react was possible. But the adder did not strike at such a golden opportunity. It swayed in front of him, doing nothing but staring.

Ætharr remembered how he had killed another adder with a throwing hatchet to the neck. He lifted his paw to where his hatchets were usually, but he had none.

He looked back at the adder, and noticed that blood was running down the adder's body. It trickled down like liquid rubies, oozing down the snake's coils. The weasel looked up to see where the adder was bleeding from.

With a jolt of surprise, he realized it was coming from a hatchet in the back of its neck. The adder also looked familiar for some reason... because it was the very same adder he had slain that day, but back from the dead? What was going on?

Ætharr knew that some magic was afoot, and began to feel cold. The adder continued to stare at him madly, and it suddenly opened its mouth. Instead of a tongue, though, the shaft of an arrow emerged into the weasel's view. He closed his eyes and shuddered to himself.

Opening his eyes again, Ætharr almost cried out in shock. The adder had morphed into his father, Ællear. The weasel was choking on the arrow lodged in his mouth. Ætharr could see the point sticking out of the back of his father's neck, and blood foamed out of his father's mouth. Ællear's eyes were wide and the colour of marble. His pupils had rolled up to show only whites, and his limbs thrashed in a sort of spasm.

Ætharr was rooted to the spot, and he saw that his legs were buried in a pike of corpses. One of them was Oorlog, another was the rat from whom he had taken his hand axe, and there was Eadwig as well. The corpses of those he had killed now held him in place.

He looked up and screamed as his father fell forward and clasped Ætharr's throat with claws as cold as ice.

" "" " " "" "" ""

Ætharr screamed as he awoke, sweating profusely and with a rapid increase in his pulse.

Rosheen came in from the chamber just beside Ætharr's and knelt down beside him, fear etched on her face, "Ætharr!"

Rosheen's voice prompted Ætharr to look at her as though it was the first time he had seen her. All he could think of was the sight of his father, decaying in death and dragging his own son down with him. Why would he do such a thing?

Slowly, Ætharr returned to reality, and gazed up at the concerned face of Rosheen. She was holding one of their children, Ædelmær. The two-week infant had its eyes open and had already begun to grow fast. Ætharr was proud of the fact that all four of the infants were healthy and strong.

But the nightmare was keeping him from sleep. It recurred every three or four days. It continued to return, his mortally wounded father grabbing him by his throat, pulling him toward him.

Little Ædelmær mewed softly to break the silence, and Ætharr's fear began to dissolve. He took his son from Rosheen just to hold the little child. It was as if Ædelmær was his salvation, the only thing that could save him from the madness and the dark.

He looked at Rosheen, "Did I wake up the others?"

Rosheen shook her head, "They're all asleep except for Ædelmær. He woke up when you screamed."

Ætharr felt ashamed, for he had not wanted to disturb his children with his yells. He held his son in his paws, cuddling the little infant until Ædelmær finally fell asleep.

He handed the sleeping child back to his mother, "Sorry about this."

Rosheen did not know what to say to this. What could she say to something that scared Ætharr so much? She had an idea what it was, but did not want to ask. Instead, she gave a reassuring smile, kissed his cheek, and took Ædelmær back to his siblings.

Ætharr laid back, trying to sleep once again, wondering why Ædelmær of all his children had awoken with his father's yell.

"" "" "" "" " " """ "" """ " """ """ """"" " "" "" "

Ætharr paced through Æthelly, listening to the normal sounds of life, reading reports from Jinn about the coin production. He warned that it would be very rough waters in the beginning, but hopefully it would work.

The weasel had his faith in his cunning friend. He missed Jinn, for although Jinn had sent him a letter of his deepest congratulations and well wishes, he had not been able to come and see the children of Ætharr.

He would have his chance soon, though. A massive feast was in preparation in honour of the new children to the Ealdor. It was going to be a banquet to remember for a long time. The Caladors had been hard at work since the birth of the children, preparing and arranging everything that had to be arranged. Food was stockpiled for the occasion, and Ætharr promised a reward for those who would give up a part of their food. Although a part of the food would be brought by the others coming in, the Caladors prepared the majority.

Birds and fish were hunted and collected for the special night. Crops were brought in from the farms, and bread was baked at a massive rate. The whole Calador population seemed to be in preparation for this event.

Judos too had been caught up in the excitement. It was the first time he really exercised his authority as a theign when he organized the weasels of his theignship into groups. They were to collect food as was the custom, but Judos gathered a specific group who would help him prepare a special surprise of shrimp & hotroot soup. Judos gave out specific instructions on which plants to look for, and then personally led a fishing expedition to find shrimp for the dish.

He was astonished at how unquestioning some of the weasels were. Was it because they had lived for so long under this system that they would obey any theing? No that could not be it, for then why did they not follow Eadwig so unquestioningly? Because he was a traitor to the Ealdor. They followed anyone loyal to the Ealdor, for the Ealdor was the one in supreme charge, and the Ealdor was Ætharr.

With the manpower, Judos' work took only a short time, and was soon instructing the cooks on how to make the soup properly.

Meanwhile, Ætharr was receiving promises of attendance from Blackaxe, Tiarnan, and even Ibos. Their entourages would be large, and to Ætharr's delight, they would also be filled with the veterans of the war against Oorlog. Ætharr had made many acquaintances among the officers and the soldiers. It would be a pleasure to see them all once again.

But Ætharr was worried about Ædall. His cousin had not yet returned from the south-eastern tribes. The forts and garrisons were being established, and Ædall had taken it upon himself to supervise it all. Ætharr wished he could reconcile with Ædall. What was the matter with him anyway? He would call him back in time for the feast.

He adored his children. He would sometimes spend hours with them on his lap, or holding them in his paws being completely unaware of the time passing by. He made it his business to spend time with them every day, and would also spend time with Rosheen at the same time.

No warnings or signs had been seen from Cecilio and Tiran, the two most hostile Factions of the Loptrio tribe. Cynefrid and Ulric, the two most powerful theigns in Calador, warned Ætharr to take care in concerns of their enemies. The Ealdor knew that the peace had been made and would continue until the end of the next season. This had been agreed upon properly, and the oaths had been sworn. Ætharr had even suggested they come and attend, but they politely refused. However, they swore they would not interfere.

Thus, Ætharr was content. He could look forward to being both a peacetime Ealdor and a father to his children. The feast was coming, so he had preparations to make.

There was one tragedy. Iola, the vixen who had allied herself with Rosheen, Judos, and Ætharr in the escape from Oorlog's prison, had been found dead in her little hovel. She had choked upon the scallop shells that she loved to eat at midday, and the Ealdor had personally organized a funeral for the vixen.

There were hushed whispers though. On the day after the burial of Iola, Rojo had approached his lord in secrecy.

"There was proof that Iola was nervous. She knew something we didn't, and maybe she was poisoned."

Ætharr had frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there might be a conspiracy attached to her death. She was a seer, she could discover things unknown. She might have discovered something that might have been valuable for us to learn."

"What do you suggest she might have known?"

"I'm not sure myself, but she weren't your ordinary vixen, that creature. She was touched with something special, she was a seer."

Ætharr had found a problem with this theory, "If she had figured something out, then surely she could have come to us and spoken about it?"

Rojo shrugged, "That's what was bothering me too. I don't know why she kept quiet, but she was going to reveal something I'm sure."

Ætharr looked at the marten, "When is the next date to observe the stars?" Iola had had a schedule of observing the heavens for insight. She had checked the heavens before announcing that Oorlog would move against them.

Rojo thought of it, "I think it would have been in a week. So we'll never know what Iola might have found out."

Whatever the problem had been, it was a secret that had died with Iola.

"" "" "" "" "" """ """" """""" "

But Ætharr had not dwelt long on the mystery. He had never spoken too much to the vixen, and though he missed her, he did not grieve as he would for someone like Judos or Rojo.

The feast also kept his mind occupied. Under his observant eye, and the competency of the theigns, the work was finished on time and everything was ready.


	19. Chapter 19

**18**

Taskill burst the door open and strode in at the head of a complement of Nativists. He walked in as though he owned the place, despite the shocked looks of the patrons in the bar.

He loved this time of the season. He said the same thing every time it happened because it was just funny to see how everyone reacted to it.

Now was the time to say it again. He called out in an exultant voice, "It's election daaayy!"

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The elections had arrived only a week after Ben had left. Candidates had been chosen earlier, though. Ben would have been part of them earlier, but he had not registered after his shop fell into a decline. His departure sealed the facts that he was not running for anything. Secretly, Taskill was relieved at the raccoon's departure. A loose cannon, uncontrollable except with a high price. Ben had also been popular before the debacle that had occurred with Shane and Thornback, and would have garnered many votes.

The city of the Highlands had a number of spots to elect. There was alderman, who was the chief magistrate of a specific county. In this case, the county was a whole city and its outskirts.

Higher up was the sheriff, who was the head of all law enforcement in the Highlands. The sheriff had the ability to muster posses and recruit deputies.

Also, there was governor, the biggest spot. Taskill had held that spot for a long time, longer than most could remember. The governor had once been called the mayor, but a mayor only applied for a city, and there were also outskirts to look after. Besides, Taskill loved the sound of governor better than mayor. Mayor sounded far too temporary, while governor had a more ringing tone, like the tone found in the word dictator.

The Black Rabbits and the Nativists were as usual, the top groups to vote for. So their candidates had the most heat. Politics was no place for violence, but there was so much else to use that violence was not needed.

Taskill's idiot cousin Tammany always ran for governor. Tammany had always acted as the role of governor, but Taskill effectively ran through him. Taskill was in truth the real ruler of the Highlands without holding any position.

The Black Rabbits did not have the best opposition to this classic duo. Opposing Taskill and Tammany would have been Ebs and Mungan, but both were dead. That left Maon to find the Black Rabbits candidate. But not many wanted to run against this pair.

Maon found a much easier time finding a candidate for alderman. Alderman had become a weak job without much trouble, so the Rabbits usually got that position out of the fact that the Nativists knew that it was pointless to work too hard for something like that. The Black Rabbits would change things this time, though. They had three new people in the elections this time, and many afterwards agreed that it changed Highlands politics forever.

The alderman position was sought after by Machar, Maon's brother. Machar had held this position for so long it seemed odd to think he would have to retire out of old age in the far future.

But this old face was surrounded by three new ones who had never run before.re as a part time job, had insight into the society and as an immigrant, knew the troubles that plagued a large percentage of the population.

There was Jander, the boisterous squirrel. He was running for the position of a counselors. The Council of the city was run by the alderman and the counselors were meant to represent the population. Jander, the down-to-earth spirit who had occasionally laboured for hi

Thornback would run as governor, with Maon supporting him. Thornback had thought long about this, and decided that he had been told to do so by Ebs. He remembered at the old hare's moment of death, he had said, _"I had a vision back then. I saw the ancient throne of the Highlands, where Bucko and his descendants sat. You were seated there.__"_ If this wasn't an urge to succeed Ebs and take his place, then Thornback did not know what was.

But there was also the fact that Ben was gone. Ben had expressed interest in running for sheriff, and had agreed on a price of ten votes for every new notch he made in his shillelagh. However, Ben had left, and his payment would never be given. However, the Black Rabbits and their allies realized they had the perfect candidate.

Raga was the Warrior of Redwall, a creature so embroiled in justice and the right that he was the perfect candidate for a sheriff. He would be able to maintain order properly in the Highlands, not like the former sheriff, a Nativist trying to get re-elected. Raga was just the one to overthrow the old hare's winning streak by exposing his incompetence.

The debates began immediately. Raga promoted himself tirelessly, often getting up on a podium in the morning and not coming down until supper. He would speak tirelessly, but not all of his work was giving speeches. He would maintain his habit of walking through the city, watching and observing over it as though he had the complete authority to do so. On several occasions he had stopped fully grown hares with nothing but pure courage and a firm oak staff that could leave a dark bruise for many days.

Thornback had to admit that about Raga: he had been horribly wrong about Ben through his own personal prejudice, but the mouse was a strong leader with character.

Thornback had not been able to talk to Raga for the first few days. The departure of Ben had stained the relationship between mouse and badger. The mouse had made the first move.

It had been a week before the candidates were announced that Raga had approached Thornback as the badger was at the ruins of Ben's house. The badger often took walks to see the scorched ruins in the excuse that he was exercising his fully healed body.

Raga had been hesitant at first, "Thornback? I'd like a word with you."

Thornback had complied willingly enough, as long as, keeping this to himself, he did not have to talk. He did not trust himself to speak civilly to the Warrior mouse yet, and he wanted to hear what Raga would say.

Raga took a breath, "I must admit once again that I was wrong about Ben. I do not approve of his character or his methods, but he is not the cruel beast I accused him of being. I must apologize to you, because we both know I may never see Ben again."

Thornback knew that it was the truth, though he would later realize it was not the case for him, and much later, he would be reunited with Ben in the most unlikely circumstances. But Thornback did not know this, and was convinced that he too would never see Ben.

"How can I possibly redeem myself, Thornback?" Raga had asked. He sounded desperate, as though Thornback's forgiveness meant the world to him.

Thornback almost laughed, but realized that it all depended on him. Raga had fallen out of favour with Harmonia, who blamed him for driving Ben away. He had also gained emnity among those who had known and liked Ben the most, even Jander. Skipper and Maon refused to take sides, but Raga still felt as though he was hated for not trusting Ben. It was completely new experience for the Warrior mouse, who had been so used to always making the right choice and being respected for it.

Thornback realized that if he could forgive Raga publicly, as the only creature whom Ben had considered a true friend, then others might put their grudges aside. Raga would once again be known for the good deeds he did on a regular basis instead of being despised for mistrusting Ben.

He looked at Raga for the first time, and as though the words were put into his mouth by another, he spoke his answer, "Fulfil Ben's intention to become the sheriff. Use it like you have used your status as Martin the Warrior's successor."

Raga had looked bewildered for a moment, but had quickly realized that there was something else at work. He nodded solemnly, "You have my word that I will do whatever I can to win."

Thornback wondered if that included the way the Highlands' politics operated.

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Raga launched himself into the campaign. He would gather crowds great and small, and no matter what the size, Raga was always hoarse by the end. He did not care if just one person was watching him, he gave it his very best.

Thornback had his own campaign to run, but he was awed at the fact the the job of sheriff was being paid attention to more than the job of governor. He and Tammany would debate with each other and accuse each other of everything under the sun, but even if the two of them did acrobatics, it would not gain them more popularity and controversy than the run for sheriff.

Jander employed the help of Talia and June, the surviving otter siblings, and he gave out speeches that were clearly written by the two sisters. It helped the sisters recover from the losses they had suffered, and their laughter was once again heard in full earnest as they watched Jander butcher their finely written words but still catch people's attention.

Raga was vicious in his accusations. He pointed out the highest levels of crime, he called witnesses and victims to speak on behalf of themselves, and he would show attention to the faults of the Nativist candidate. But the upshot of it all was that he was right. He did not blindly accuse, nor did he bribe witnesses, he presented the truth. Raga stood for the truth, and the hares of the Highlands liked what they saw. At least, the Black Rabbit supporters did. But there was also a large gathering support from the neutral population. They saw that Raga was above the gang wars and the raids. He was defending the innocent from the guilty, and he was offering order and peace after many lifetimes of war. It was a future that the hares would dearly wish could happen, and seeing Raga stand his ground and defend his views made them think that at long last the right candidate had come to solve at least some of their problems. It was a start, and a start they would make it.

Thornback had troubles of his own, though. He and Maon planned different strategies as debates went on through the weeks, but Taskill and Tammany seemed to always hold them at bay. Tammany was a confidant hare who was as corrupt as his cousin without having half of Taskill's ruthlessness. This made him perfect to be a political puppet while Taskill, by far the more dangerous of the two, was free to do as he pleased without the weight of a political office under his belt.

Thornback attempted to expose the corruption as Raga did, but it did not seem to work as well. He was well known to be a Black Rabbit, and this hurt his image. While Tammany's Nativist status hurt him too, he was the familiar face as opposed to the strange one of the young badger. If Ebs and Mungan had been part of the election, alongside Raga, then it might have been another matter. Be that as it may, Thornback and Maon knew that their chances were small from the get-go.

Election day began in earnest. And this was where the dark side of politics reared its ugly head. Raga had promised to do whatever it took, and he attempted to swallow his scruples and continued to campaign rigorously. He would perform rousing speeches that would seem to be different every time, but always focused on the same ideals.

The opposing sides began their game immediately. Corruption was normal: of course hares would vote under four or five different aliases. Of course the neutrals and the immigrants were bribed or coerced into voting a certain way. It had always been like this.

Taskill prowled the dark alleyways with his press-gangs, picking up sleeping drunks and waking them up.

"Rise and shine, rise and shine...' he would say, '...in this great city of ours even the tramps and beggars get the vote."

Raga was above this work, but the Black Rabbits knew that to fight fair meant defeat. But even they were astonished at the courage many neutral hares displayed by voting for Raga despite threats. Raga had attracted attention like never before with his strong word and his dream for the future.

He and Skipper had headed into a pub to make a speech, when one of the housewives had begged Raga to speak to her lazy husband for her. Raga had been surprised, but postponed his speech to speak with the drunk. He had been sitting in an old armchair when Raga arrived.

"I hear that you abandon your job and your duties, sir." Raga could be very stern when he wanted to be.

The hare had been in a hangover, and he had shrugged apathetically, "Wot's it to you?"

"Why?"

The single word had thrown the hare off balance, and he had not given a proper answer. He attempted to take a swig of his beer, but Raga had knocked it away in anger, "Do not drown your sorrows or try to forget what must be done! It will be your undoing! Don't you see?"

The hare had growled at the mouse, and had lifted his ale mug again. This time, Raga took it out of his hand and poured the liquid onto the floor. Raga turned to the table and did likewise to all the bottles placed upon it.

He did not leave for an hour. All that time he confronted the hare, refusing to allow the hare to retreat inside a shell of apathy and stupour. The hare had been convinced, or intimidated, into attempting to change his lifestyle. As of that meeting, the hare had returned to the shop, and was cold sober every day.

Soon others asked Raga to help them out in little ways. Sometimes Raga failed, other times he succeeded, but what mattered was that he tried. He was perhaps the first politician in Highlands history to do this sort of politics. It helped his reputation incredibly.

When the ballots were counted and everything was tolled up, the voting results were clear. Raga had won by ten thousand more votes than there were voters.

It was a moment of great celebration. Thornback had cheered happily, and had offered his congratulations to Raga seven times. The mouse was ecstatic: he had won over the city, for it was seen that even a few Nativist names pitched in without Taskill knowing. He had redeemed himself in his own eyes and in the public's eye.

Maon was even more happy. He revealed the reason to a stunned Thornback. The votes had not been for specific jobs but for one side as a whole.

Thornback was stunned. That meant that the Black Rabbits had won everything! Thanks to Raga's success, Thornback was now the governor of the Highlands! The badger began to feel bad that he had ridden on Raga's success.

"Wot are ye talkin' aboot? Yoo would hae won too. Just barely, but a few hundred votes tipped the scales in yer favour. The neutrals seem to want change in the city." Maon seemed utterly relieved of that last fact.

Thornback felt much better about himself. He represented change, a new face, a new hope. But the thought that Taskill had lost made him terrified for himself and Raga.

He went down to the square, where Raga was greeting those who had voted for him. He attempted to take Raga aside, but the crowd was too great.

"Raga, you must be careful of Taskill! He will attempt to kill you, I'm sure!"

Raga grinned, "Oh he will, but he dare not. Thank you for your concern, Thornback, but I must-"

He couldn't say anymore, for a group of hares had lifted the warrior mouse on their shoulders and were parading him around the square.

Thornback himself was receiving adulation at this point, and he smiled for the crowd that had put him on the throne. _I did it Ebs. I did it for you!_, he thought.

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Taskill stayed quiet for a week. Raga had been busy attempting to establish a force of deputies to assist him. Skipper was the chief deputy, and Maon's cousin Earnan was another important member. He had also prepared a new location for the sheriff's building: as an homage to Ben, it was being built on top of the raccoon's former antique shop. The building had gone along at a tremendous pace, and the structure was nearly complete.

Raga now sported a new sword, for the Sword of Martin was still gone with Judos, as far as they knew. But the new sword had been specially crafted for him, and he was proud of it. He vowed that when he returned to Redwall, he would wear it by his side at all times where the Sword of Martin was not needed.

He himself took part in the construction and spoke civilly with the labourers who were a tad too rowdy for Raga's liking.

But one day, one of them was stone-faced. He approached Raga while the mouse was taking a shift off with a group of others. The hare was holding a fish's head on a plate. There was a message scrawled inside.

"Today".

That was the message in its entirety. Raga knew what it was. Grabbing his sword, he walked over to where the mound sloped down into the square.

Taskill stood at the sign post, waiting for the mouse to come down. He had no weapons in his paws, but Raga knew that the hare would doubtless have weapons ready for a duel.

But Raga did not want to fight. He knew that it was meant for him to lose face. Taskill was mad if he thought he could kill an elected official, so this must be for the show. And Raga would not fall for it. Instead, the mouse stuck the point of his sword in the earth and spoke in a ringing voice, "Citizens of the Highlands!"

All were silent to see this showdown, but everyone within earshot was listening.

"Taskill here has come to make a fool of me, and might even be considering to put me in a position where the abrupt dismissal of myself from the sheriff's position would be evident. I will not be dismissed for anything that this hare has to offer, I can tell you that! So I put it to you, the people who elected me. Shall I continue this monstrous ritual of the combat laws, or shall I be your spokesbeast for the future?!"

No answer came from anyone, but a few clapped feebly in the silence. Taskill stared up at the mouse unblinkingly, not moving a muscle but to breathe.

Raga spread his paws out, but still holding onto the sword, "I have no quarrel with you that would make me fight you in such an uncivilized way, Taskill. I would rather settle this the proper way between two sensible creatures." He waited for Taskill's response.

Taskill relented with a nod of his head. He began to climb the steps to the house. Smiling happily at this crucial victory, Raga turned around to head back up the way he came.

He never saw Taskill pull out one of his cleavers and hurl it at the mouse's back.

Raga did not scream. He gasped out in pain, and fell to the ground in agony. His limbs twitched as he tried to crawl to safety.

Taskill looked at the immobile workers, staring in horror, "That, my friends, was the minority vote!"

Then, taking the sword dropped by Raga, he made three or four slashes down upon the mouse's neck before finally severing the head.

Taking the sword with him, Taskill left without another word, but all saw the gleam of utmost satisfaction on his face.


	20. Chapter 20

**19**

Roaveen observed his father from the hallway.

The old badger was eating breakfast calmly and composed. No problem with that, just that it was time for lunch.

Roaveen wondered if his father was getting senile. Perhaps he was just sleeping in? Roaveen wondered how he could find out which one it was.

He was in a good mood, Roaveen was. Not only was the Mountain Regiment improving physically, but the plan to combine the officer classes of both the Long Patrol and the Mountain Regiment had worked. Now he was able to secure Krieg's position as captain. Roselyn had made a fuss, so he'd been told, but he didn't care. He had never liked Roselyn that much, and had thought her too frail for the position of captain.

Krieg now held the position of captain. He acted like he had been made king of the sky, but he had some reason to, for had it not been for Roaveen, he would have died or retired a lieutenant.

Roaveen was also happy because his popularity had grown among the leverets. Leaflock had declared his loyalty to Roaveen, and with it, the whole regiment went his way. They were glad to have their friends from the Long Patrol alongside them. At least, once the Long Patrol allowed those leverets to enlist. The age limit had been raised again since Lady Cregga Rose Eyes' conscription.

Roaveen's thoughts turned back to his father. If he was turning senile, something could be worked out in Roaveen's favour. A thought entered Roaveen's head that was so incredible that it made the badger's knees shake with excitement and fear of disappointment. He wondered if it would succeed. He would need plenty of time to ensure its success.

He felt let down, but it was worth the wait.

He diverted his mind away from this thought and thought back to the problem of Roselyn going to Korari.

He knew she had gone to Korari because he had passed by and had overheard their conversation. Korari for some reason had been speaking with their father, based on the direction Korari had been coming from, and Roselyn had met him in a huff. Roaveen counted his lucky stars that he had heard this before trouble started.

He was now able to make a battle plan. The way to get Korari to back down was to turn the Regiment against him and favour Roaveen. To do that he would need to plan the location and time carefully.

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He found a strategy quick enough. He knew that Korari would foolishly think it was an accident. Thornback had fed enough junk into Korari's head that Roaveen was all brawn no brain. Foolish bastard, he would be blindsided easily. Along with the rest of the Regiment.

The Regiment was to meet up together in the early hours of dawn as usual, but when all were assembled, Roaveen organized them into punishment order. Punishment order was the formation that created a hollow square. This was usually done for witnessing a punishment carried out, but served wonders for giving announcements.

Roaveen stood in the center, alone except for Captain Krieg and Ensigns Sophus and Ormond. Sergeant Liofe stood to the side, ensuring order among the ranks.

Korari had come too, Roaveen saw him quickly, standing just outside the ranks of leverets. He was edgy, because he desperately wanted to speak to his brother about the new arrangements. 'He won't be so keen after this', Roaveen thought smugly.

He called out in his large voice, "Regiment! It has become common knowledge that we are now linked to the Long Patrol through its officer class. This is true, and will continue so from now on."

There were quiet whisperings of astonishment, even among the veterans. Roaveen casually scanned the crowd's reaction, and saw that Korari's face betrayed his thoughts. Korari's fear had been confirmed, and now he was bursting to interrupt and object. Of course, he would not interfere with Roaveen's regiment, and Roaveen would use this as his secret weapon.

He continued, "However, I must say that this has not been a selfish decision. I have received a number of requests from leverets- and I will not name them now- who wish to be united with their friends when their friends join the Long Patrol." He liked spreading some suspicion among the troops. The veterans wouldn't make too much fuss over it, and the leverets knew Leaflock had been one of them. Leaflock was easily the most popular of the hares, and his interests were usually followed by the rest.

Korari was blind to Roaveen's manipulation, but he could see the faces of the hares. They were fascinated at the change in their leader's opinions and values. They wanted to know what would become of them in the next few days.

Roaveen obliged them, "And what of the veterans? My father selected you to be part of the Mountain Regiment. Were you consulted? No, but it's only natural. Army orders must be obeyed. But wouldn't you still like to be reunited with your friends and siblings?"

The veterans' reactions were mixed. The younger ones agreed with nods, the older ones looked at each other diffidently. Korari was beginning to see that Roaveen had planned this for days. This was no speech on-the-spot, this was manipulation. He was turning the regiment to his side once again.

"I put it to you: shall I continue with this decision?" He looked about brightly, as though there would be no question as to the results. Korari held his breath.

Roaveen turned out to be right: the Regiment gave a small cheer, voicing their support in a variety of ways that spanned from clapping and yelling, to merely nodding in a satisfied matter. Only a few made no comment, and while they were passively against the idea, they made no attempt to halt those in favour of the decision.

Korari suddenly saw the extent of the trickery. But why do this? What was the point of replacing Roselyn with Krieg?

As Korari finished that thought he realized the answer was right in front of him. It was another way of manipulating hares onto Roaveen's side. Just another bit of trickery and deceit. Korari was bowled over, not only at the cleverness of it, but also how it was Roaveen of all people? It had always been Thornback who had been the brains of the brothers. Or so it had seemed.

Korari wanted desperately to talk to Ormond and Sophus, hoping that they of all people would realize what was going on. But as he saw their faces, he knew that was merely wishful thinking. Both of them were grinning at the prospect of being back in the Long Patrol barracks.

He wondered whether he should speak with Roaveen about this. Would it do any good? What could be gained from it?

He decided to keep quiet for now. It would only make things worse, so he would pick his own time to speak with his brother.

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Adisa was subdued from the deaths of Arly and Elfwin. He had not imagined Varrus would go so far as to hang someone, moreover, someone innocent of all crimes.

It had not been Elfwin who had murdered Slade, and Adisa knew it had not been Elfwin who had murdered Arly. He knew because he had seen the murderers come back to the Abbey.

He had surprisingly found his way back faster than he had expected. The foliage and the trees seemed more familiar once he got closer to the Abbey. He had seen two filthy-looking rats, and Elial, the old fox, approach the Abbey quickly and silently. With a look of horror, Varrus appeared in the doorway and gave Elial his reward after the two rats were killed.

Ducking back, Adisa went to the opposite side of the Abbey, in an attempt to reach the Redwallers before Varrus could talk to them. If he could accuse Varrus before the old otter knew what was happening, he may be surprised into making a mistake.

Quickly he ran, but to his dismay, the doors were locked. Adisa began pounding on the doors like a smith hammers metal. Calling out for the guard, Adisa continued to knock the doors when his paws began to bleed.

Adisa wasn't crying. He found he could not weep for Arly. It was sickening, but the tears would not come. He focused his energy and mind onto getting to the feast before the Abbott got there.

The door suddenly opened. Looking at him was Verso. The mole wore a look of surprise at the ragged appearance of the civet, "Wot harpened to ye and Arly?"

Adisa himself was surprised, "You are the guard? I thought Diefen was the guard after lunch." Diefen was a burly otter that served as Gatekeeper. The otter was always on guard, eating his supper alone and humming to himself.

Verso shrugged, "Varrus appointed me to be guard, burr aye. An' ye? Whurr be Arly?"

Adisa shook his head, "He's dead."

There was no word to describe Verso's reaction. The mole was shocked, so shocked that he went pale under his fur. But he was also confused, in denial of the truth, but at the same time devastated because he knew Adisa would not lie.

Adisa wanted to stay, but it was essential he got to the Abbey population and tell them. It was necessary that the others knew before Varrus told them.

But Verso suddenly grabbed him, "What harpened, civut! What 'arpened!" There was a raw emotion in the mole's voice, the mole who had never known death and had never thought death would cross swords with him.

Adisa tried to struggle with Verso's grip, but the mole's grip was like steel. Grief seemed to do that, Adisa privately thought.

Verso was shaking, "Oi wants tur know thurr truth!"

Adisa struggled furiously, "Not now, Verso! Not now, but come with me and you'll hear about it!"

Verso hesitated for the briefest of moments, as something in his mind began to wonder. It was at this point where Adisa seized his chance and writhed out of the mole's grip.

The civet hurtled towards Cavern Hole, furious with himself for wasting so much time with Verso.

He saw the doorway, felt himself begin to quiver with anticipation, and burst through the door. And saw that he had failed.

Varrus was standing up, shaking with a fear Adisa had not seen on his face in a while. He was in the middle of speaking to the creatures of Redwall, all of whom were staring at him. Their attention was suddenly diverted to the new appearance. Adisa went pale as he saw Varrus commanding the scene once again.

But Adisa had failed. Varrus was poisoning their minds already. The realization that a good creature had been murdered, along with a sense of justice, made tears come to the civet's eyes.

"Alonzo Punto is dead!" He yelled out, and silently wept for his friend, for his family, and for his people.


	21. Chapter 21

_**20**_

Ætharr smiled warmly at Rosheen. She was cuddling all four of their children, utterly content as any new mother was. Ætharr wanted to ask if she needed him to hold the children, but he knew she'd refuse, saying that she was perfectly adept to the task. The Ealdor wondered who was more proud; the Falcarragh or the Calador?

Certainly he was proud of being Calador, and proud enough to put every effort into making everything look as good as possible for the feast. The theigns were all ordered to attend, content that the peace would last at least for the next three weeks. Inflamed with this feeling, Ætharr considered inviting his rivals in the Loptrio tribe, but all advised him not to, for it was they who had turned down all communication. There was no need to make rude guests feel welcome.

Instead, the allies were invited, as many as possible. Tiarnan, who was still in Calador helping his son-in-law and daughter, sent Cocoran to collect the important creatures in the Falcarragh tribe with their escorts. Cocoran returned with Rosheen's other brothers, who were overjoyed for their sister. The Falcarragh tribe came in great numbers: a whole third of them, it was said, was coming either as part of an entourage or as guests.

The Jeri tribe was coming in droves, for many of the veterans of the war of independence wanted to see former allies and friends. It was a reunion for those who had fought and survived in the war, and Ætharr was willing to arrange for as many to come as possible. Blackaxe, the king of the Jeri clan, was coming with his two generals Ervaring and Luther Pelopidas, both of them veterans of the war. Also coming were Snauw and Jager, two of Blackaxe' best captains, and many others. Blackaxe was a massively built marten with not only a vast physical strength, but also a very high intelligence. He was a powerful ally to have, and he ensured his loyalty by coming to the feast.

Embassies from the Vireo tribe were coming too. Ibos, the young king of the tribe after his father Nero had been killed, was arriving with a number of his captains and troops. Most of the old commanders of the Vireo troops were dead. Coldbane and Blackback in particular had died during the campaign, and they were missed by some due to the nostalgia time grants to all but the most vile and evil of people. Brownhide, who was now the general in the Vireo armies, and also Ibos' top military advisor, was attending as well. They showed their loyalty by coming to the feast arranged for Ætharr's heirs.

Even Kazahley of the Hunan came to the feast. Originally, Ætharr had befriended the veteran Captain Küchulår. He had led a diversion against the fortress of Brocovar, but had been killed in the fight. From then on, Kazahley, the younger brother of the fallen hero, led those of the Hunan that had sworn allegiance to the Allied cause. He now ruled three fifths of the former Hunan territory. He came with only two score of bodyguards, for the population of the Hunan were quite sparse after the massacre at the Battle of the Ridge.

Ædelmær, Lorcan, Ædron, and Nuala were the guests of honour, particularly Ædron, the new heir to the Calador throne. It filled people with a sense of relief, that all the hope did not just rely on Ætharr. He now had three sons to replace him, and they were now three of the most important people in the Calador tribe. Their health and safety were essential in these times.

Ætharr was feeling nostalgic as he saw old comrades. Blackaxe came in like a gush of fresh air, embracing the Ealdor like a bear. Luther Pelopidas and Ervaring were overjoyed to see him again. Luther Pelopidas, the Canis of Bellum and former leader of the Sacred Band, had lived to see it re-established and was already getting reinforcements into the Sacred Band. Ten had come with the Canis, and to Ætharr's delight they were all from the Battle of the Ridge.

Snauw and Jager looked the same as ever, both scarred and of little words. They stayed silent and bobbed their heads respectfully towards Rosheen and the children, muttering praises that did not fit well on their tongues. They were no-nonsense fighters, and being a gentlebeast was not on their agenda.

Blackaxe was much more jolly. He immediately began asking about how the economy was doing in Calador, and was quite keen on the idea of a new coin system that proved to be successful. Ibos was more quiet, but offered his greetings with a wary respect of Ætharr. He had, of course, clashed with both Ætharr and Blackaxe before, but he seemed to hope that it had been forgotten.

Blackaxe was content to forget it, but Ætharr had a bone to pick with him besides the past. The south-eastern lands had been liberated by Calador forces, without any Vireo support: despite the fact that much of the land they had been fighting for was Vireo lands as of yet uninhabited. For Ætharr, it was disgusting to see the young Vireo king wasting good land. However, he knew that this was not the time for this kind of confrontation. He smiled at Ibos politely, but did not become too attached to the ferret.

Judos gave Ibos a much wider berth. He was nervous of making himself evident due to the feud he had had with Blackback, the merciless black ferret who had been the greatest commander of the Vireo army. He had been witness to Nero's swearing an oath of alliance with Calador, and had been best friends with Coldbane, a grey fox of equal ferocity but with much more charisma. Judos had not slain Blackback, but he feared that Ibos would remember the bad blood. But Judos also hated Ibos for the fact that the ferret was arrogant and careless of offence at times.

Ætharr was happy to have Tiarnan and Blackaxe together with him. Both were very strong warriors, and both were intelligent creatures that had experience of ruling. If Ætharr could not rely on them he would fear them as his enemies.

"How are the Loptrio tribe treating you?" Blackaxe inquired of Tiarnan.

"No trouble so far. I haven't received any news from my captains that there could be any sign of an attack,' Tiarnan continued, 'But I'm not going to be lulled into a sense of false security."

Blackaxe and Ætharr agreed. They should never let their enemies outmatch them. If that happened, all the Allies had ever worked for would be doomed.

Meanwhile, Ætharr moved on through his guests, staring with joy at an old face, even if it was a bodyguard or even a servant. He would speak to all who he had known, no matter what their status.

A weasel suddenly stepped in front of him, "Remember me, Ealdor?" It was Jinn.

Jinn! Tears welled up in Ætharr's eyes. He had not seen his dear friend for more than a full season. He had not seen much of any of them. Horal had been away in his theignship, Jinn off to the east, and Ædall distant as ever. Ætharr had not realized how much he had truly missed their companionship until they were back in front of his eyes again.

He embraced the weasel, smiling broadly. Jinn was the same as ever: lithe, wiry, and sly. He had changed a bit though: Jinn seemed more cunning than ever, with his eyes turning a shade brighter and more cold. Ætharr could also see that the weasel was looking less youthful than before. He had bags under his eyes, hard to recognize because of his fur, but the weariness was showing itself in the weasel.

"You look tired, old friend." Ætharr greeted him cheerfully.

Jinn smiled, "Have you observed yourself?"

Ætharr was checked by that. He had been feeling tired as of late, but had always tried to dismiss it from his mind in favour of the more important things.

Just as he was thinking of this, Horal suddenly appeared. He was still plump, but his sword was strapped to his waist and his paw was there as usual. He looked more authoritative than before, but that might have been the gold torque he wore around his neck.

"All well, Horal?" Jinn asked cheerfully. He had missed his old friends, and Horal grinned broadly in greeting. He looked at Ætharr, "No disturbances on the borders tonight, Ætharr. The fire beacons are ready to be lit at first sign of serious trouble."

"Good. Now we can relax. Let us get this organized." Ætharr was in a cheerful mood.

Before the feast began, there was a ritual to complete. The heir was recognized, and the important guests had brought gifts for the children of Ætharr and Rosheen. Kazahley gave Nuala several jewels specially crafted from the tough sap from pine trees, and they were also crafted to contain quartz crystals within the bracelets, and three thick cloaks, each a different colour for the the three sons.

Ibos, who valued education more than war, presented a number of books concerning the history of the tribes and also the history of Mossflower. Ætharr wrinkled his nose, because Calador had scrolls that talked of the same things, but he was very impressed with the hardcovers and the pages set to turn. Only Vireo had mastered that technique.

Brownhide gave a carefully crafted set of dolls for Nuala to use as she got older, and a set of little wooden swords to practice with for the boys, each having their name carved in their sword.

Luther Pelopidas had brought a fine shield ringed with gold, set to the Calador style, because he had studied the design of the Calador shields for this purpose. It was meant for Ædron, the heir of Calador, but Ervaring provided two swords for Lorcan and Ædelmæar. The blades were made of fine steel with a hint of silver in the mix. They shone in the firelight and Ætharr was very impressed. To cap it off, Luther had a finely handled fur scarf for Nuala.

Blackaxe provided three tunics of quality that did not exist among Calador tailors. The tunics were dyed a deep vibrant blue with the Calador symbol of the golden sun blazoned on the front. A fourth tunic, specially crafted to fit a female, was also provided, a more sky blue in colour, with the Calador sun more darker.

Snauw and Jager offered bows for all the children to use as they got older. In Calador and Jeri, both males and females learned to use bows. This was not only due to hunting necessity, but also the fact that both male and female would be able to defend themselves and their homes.

The important guests, their gifts delivered, acknowledged Ædron and his brothers as the heirs to the Calador territory. The theigns too came forward with their gifts and they too swore fealty to the true Ealdor and his new heirs.

The solemn rituals done, the feast began. It was a spectacle to behold for Judos, who had always thought the Redwall feasts were impossible to match. The feast tonight was fantastic, far more appealing to Judos for the reason that meat was the main course for the meals. As an otter, he had always inclined towards the fish and shrimp in Redwall, but even that was pushing it at Redwall. Vegetables and bread had been far more important at the Abbey, while here, much more store was placed behind meat. Judos shunned the cooked bird at first, leaning more towards the vegetables and his own hotroot soup, but found he had a taste for a well-cooked bird. It tasted delicious, and he began sampling other bits of food they had to offer.

Ætharr ate heartily, his appetite sharpened by the fact that he had spent the whole day hurrying around organizing things personally. He hated to be idle while others worked. Now, he could safely enjoy his night.

That was when the arrow was shot right for his head, and many seasons afterwards, Judos, who had been sitting not far by, would still hear the sound of an arrow striking flesh and sinking deep.


	22. Chapter 22

**21**

The arrow had been shot by an expert. Ferric, the theign sitting closest to Ætharr and had been leaning in to talk to his master, knew it was a fine shot the moment it plunged into the weasel's neck. The shot had been aimed to enter Ætharr through his eye while the Ealdor was listening to his theign talk of a suspicious silence from the frontier. That was when a Calador soldier, seated two places down from Ætharr's other side, was asked to pass down a bowl of rice. Ferric had impulsively leaned forward to grab the bowl, thereby ensuring the Ealdor to be blocked from view at the crucial moment, a mere second before the arrow hit. Ferric hadn't even finished leaning forward.

Those nearest screamed at the sudden sight of a shaft sticking through Ferric's neck. They jumped up in surprise, knocking over dishes of food.

Ætharr was so horrified that he could not speak or cry out. He grabbed Ferric and turned him over so the weasel lay with his back on Ætharr's knees. The weasel was not even old enough to be Ætharr's father. He had been there when Ællear had died. He had saved Ætharr's life by pulling down to the ground and avoid the arrows. The weasel had just married to a fine, beautiful bride, and they had had a newborn litter of five pups. What would happen to them now, Ætharr wondered as he began to weep.

Ferric was not dead. He choked on his own blood as he tried to speak. The words came out painfully, and the squelch of blood grated Ætharr's ears as the theign spoke.

"Some things don't change, do they, Ealdor?"

Ætharr shook his head as more tears came. He didn't want to weep, but he couldn't help it. He felt so ingratiated to this weasel, even before this moment. He owed much to the weasel, and he had hoped Ferric would have been able to live much longer than this.

"You called me Ealdor." The words came out, trembling, as they had come out of Ætharr's mouth that fateful day that everything in his life had changed.

Ferric smiled at the echo, which turned into a grimace of pain, and spoke again, "You are the Ealdor. You will always be the Ealdor, Ætharr." He suddenly tried to lean forward and vomit, but he could not, and the air was finally sealed in his throat at last. He was suffocating on his own blood and bile.

Ætharr couldn't stand it. Weeping, he took a knife to cut meat, and drew out one of his throwing hatchets. He placed the knife and hatchet in Ferric's paws, giving him weapons to use in the Great Hall of Warriors. Relief was in Ferric's eyes- yes, Ætharr knew he saw gratitude- and his eyes rolled up into his head. Ætharr closed the weasel's eyes with a final sob and composed himself as best he could.

But this was not the end. Ætharr suddenly looked up to see many lights outside the hall. Torches.

What was happening? Ætharr was bewildered. Most of the occupants of Æthelly were right here in the hall. Who were those outside?

Only one possibility. Ætharr went cold: Æthelly had been stormed and overrun. Calador had been invaded!

Others noticed this and they stood up from their tables. Servants fled for the kitchens, and the warriors, most of whom hadn't had time to drink too much, scrambled to get their weapons. Most of the clans forbade weapons at feasts, for the acts of a drunken creature are ever unpredictable. They had been all left at the back of the hall, or in residentials of the Caladors.

Some had retained their weapons, particularly those of the higher authorities. In this case, it was Judos, Blackaxe, Ædall (who had stayed at the end of the table speaking to few), Gyras, Ætharr, and Rojo.

Rosheen was torn between protecting her children and fighting alongside her husband. She instinctively gathered her arms around her children.

Not far away, her husband was now standing, staring at the howling mob that had broken into the hall. Scores of them, half carrying torches, all carrying weapons.

The guests began to scatter, or else were cut down by the raiders. Many of the martens picked up the chairs they had been sitting on and swung them forward angrily, buying many of the soldiers precious time to grab weapons. Others, like Jinn, grabbed knives used for supper and began forward.

Ætharr felt no fear, only rage. The most loyal theign he and his father had ever had had choked to death on his lap, killed by an assassin's dart. It was a cruel way to die, and the invaders had penetrated all the way into Calador to strike the capital city. It filled Ætharr's patriotic soul with injured pride and fury. He bellowed out in a rage-choked voice, "ROJO!"

The marten turned to the source of the call, "My lord?"

"My axes! Now!"

Captain Rojo hastened to grab the weapons, knowing that if he didn't get the weapons for his master, then Ætharr would take them on with his bare claws if he had to do that to avenge Ferric's death. The marten threw the two axes in the air, "Catch!"

As if his actions were controlled by the Gods themselves, Ætharr leapt into the air, spinning around. He grabbed both axes even as they flew towards his head, continued to spin, and landed on his two feet.

One group of foes saw him, armed with his signature axes. They rushed towards him, brandishing their weapons, laughing and yelling gleefully. Their amusement made Ætharr's rage all the more blacker, and he wanted to tear their teeth out for what they had done.

In a flash, two were down from his whirling blades, while another was just as quickly dispatched. The group backed away in surprise, and when Ætharr ran after them, they scattered in order to take on weaker targets.

The hall had become a miniature battlefield gone completely awry. The fighters were scattered throughout the hall, with the raiders equally scattered out. If the raiders had not been wearing masks and red armbands, then they would have been unrecognizable from the Allies.

Judos was trembling as he swung the sword of Martin the Warrior. He had never dreamed that vermin would attack on this day, what with the peace made with the enemy tribes. What was going on? Had they broken their promises of truce?

His blade became an extension of his arm as he wielded it with the skill of experience. Vermin lunged for him, amazed at the Calador-trained otter's wrath. Judos flinched once, when the archer who had shot Ferric shot at Judos. The shaft missed him only by a hair, but the shock that Judos got because of it gave the one warrior time to stick his spear into Judos' leg. Roaring in pain, Judos beheaded the offending creature.

Blackaxe was a giant among the combatants. His face was a death mask, grim as the coldest night of dead winter. He swung his battleaxe with devastating effect upon any who encountered it. Beside him, Jager and Snauw held short spears and fought single-handed combat.

Blood-spattered, Ætharr threw a throwing hatchet up at the rafters, where the archer who had slain Ferric had his base. He was still a very accurate thrower: his hatchet took his quarry in the leg, the next hatchet pinning him to the wood. The archer wailed, and his voice was a relief for the Ealdor. He wanted him alive.

Suddenly, he heard a cry. Many were screaming now, but this one touched a nerve in Ætharr. It was his son, Ædelmær.

He turned to see Rosheen and Horal, standing back to back, guarding the children, who were grouped tightly together. Rosheen was fighting fiercely, more so because she was a protective mother. Horal was snarling, his long blade snaking out past assailants' guards to slay them. But they would not last long.

Ætharr shouldered his way through the fighting, desperate to get to his children. He cursed creatures in his way, slaying foebeasts that dared cross him.

That was when a group of creatures attacked him, who knew that his guard was down. Two dropped their weapons and clutched onto Ætharr's paws. His axes on the floor beside him, Ætharr could only bellow as they pulled him down onto his back and stomped down hard on his torso. The pain made Ætharr lose breath. He had not been prepared for these blows, and his strength fled for a few moments.

He saw the glint of an axe. His own axe would be used to behead him.

Beneath his fury, Ætharr was terrified. To die by your own weapon was the greatest humiliation a warrior could suffer. Not only that, Ætharr had no weapons in his paws. He would be denied admission to the Hall of his ancestors. The humiliation of these two things were enough to kill him, and his fear showed.

Suddenly, a deep-throated roar sounded. The offender holding Ætharr's ax was killed in a heartbeat. The others wailed as a large fist smashed into one of them, a hearty kick into the other.

Ætharr was surprised by the roar: who was it? Blackaxe? One of the martens? Gyras? Even as he thought, the answer loomed over him, standing to defend the Ealdor with his life.

It was Ædall, larger than Ætharr and with a face that would make the devil himself shudder. Ætharr shivered as he stared up in surprise at his cousin. The moment passed quickly, as others came forward. Ædall howled in his baritone voice and lashed out like a bull, defending Ætharr without any question or hesitation. Ætharr could have lain there all night and Ædall would have continued to defend him.

Ætharr grabbed his axes and rose up beside his cousin. Using his loud voice, he called out, "Rally to me, Allies! Rally to me!"

And the veterans of the war against Oorlog were heartened. They came forward towards Ætharr, all of them from the battles that had made history. Luther, Ervaring, Jinn, Agricola, and soldiers with no rank but had fought as hard as any. They formed a group with Ætharr and Ædall, causing others to group around them. This organization turned the tide for the Allies, and the foes were losing heart fast.

Their nerve failed altogether when a group of Allies led by Kazahley blocked off all retreat. The vermin were trapped between two forces, and were butchered ruthlessly. No quarter was given, they were all slain.

During the massacre, Ætharr ordered that the archers sitting wounded by his hatchets be brought down. Ætharr sentence him to be crucified on the border as a warning to what happened to assassins.

After the worst of the killing was over, Ætharr hurried back to his children to see if they were alright. He needn't have worried: Rosheen and Horal had been successful in fending off any attackers. The babes were gurgling happily and crawling around the discarded plates of food. Rosheen saw him and smiled in immense relief. Ætharr felt a heavy load of fear leave his body, and he turned to where Ædall was standing.

He called out, "Ædall!"

The weasel looked at him with some surprise. Judos too looked up, but the rest were already busy clearing away the corpses, taking injured comrades to the healers, or resetting the furniture.

Both Ædall and Judos approached, Judos more subtly, and gave a small salute to the Ealdor.

"Yes?" The rumbling voice betrayed unsteadiness.

Ætharr looked squarely in Ædall's eyes, "Why did you do that?"

Ædall paused, clearly confused, "What are you talking about?"

"You've avoided me and glared at me for nigh two seasons and now you suddenly risk life and limb? What's going on?" Ætharr was frustrated and angry with Ædall. He wanted to find out what was going on after all this resent. He had been hurt when his cousin had severed ties with him, and he was secretly pleased to see Ædall falter, as if it hurt him too.

He tried to avoid eye contact with Ætharr, but Ædall knew he would have to give an answer to his cousin and liege lord. Judos was not sure what would happen: it could go either way at this point, but he felt sorry for Ædall.

Ætharr was oblivious, "Speak!"

Ædall jerked his head towards his cousin furiously and yelled, "Because you're the last one!"

Judos and Rosheen were surprised, as was Ætharr. Ædall stood there, as if holding back something. Then, tears began pouring down Ædall's cheeks and he tried to put on a defiant look, which failed. He stood there awkwardly, silently weeping, making everyone around him likewise feel awkward.

Ætharr opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He didn't know what to say. Finally, in a hesitant voice, as if he knew how tactless it was to ask, he spoke, "What do you mean?"

Rosheen turned to him at last, "Can't you see it, Ætharr?" Her voice was indignant, and she stared at her husband in anger. Ætharr was surprised at this display of anger from Rosheen, and he turned to Judos for help in a silent plea. But Judos could not help him for once, since it had dawned on him too what Ædall was talking about. Him faster than Rosheen, for he had seen the last exchange Ælfer had ever given his son.

Rosheen spoke again, "Ætharr, you're the last relative he has! His mother was killed by a sickness, he has no siblings, his father had two new children but now they're gone somewhere, in the care of foster parents, and his father was executed as the greatest traitor in Calador history! Who is left? You!"

Ætharr couldn't help but agree, then it came to him slowly. Ædall had always valued family more than anything in his life. He would do anything for Ætharr, and Ætharr would have done anything for Ædall. It was that brotherly bond that had formed. Ædall had always been hurt by his father's betrayal, the murder of his uncle and Ætharr's father. He had been especially torn apart by the fact that Ælfer had disowned his son, remarried and had begun raising two new heirs.

Judos spoke up, "Did you see Ædall's face when you ordered his father to be killed?"

Ætharr hadn't, but the mentioning of this made him indignant, "My father was murdered at Ælfer's request!"

"Ædall knows that! That's why he went to find you in the first place. His principles were mixed up so much that he had to go with you. But when Ædall's father called for his son, it triggered emotions in Ædall that had previously been repressed. How can a son stop loving his father, no matter what he's done? It takes a lot: for Ædall it wasn't enough. In the name of the Gods, Ætharr, how can you of all people not understand the love a son has of their father?!" Judos burst out the last sentence desperately, to make Ætharr see the light.

It worked. Ætharr was bowled over, lost for words. He looked at Ædall, who had merely stood and watched him. A surge of affection for his cousin flowed back into his body and he surprisingly felt tears around his eyes. slowly, he stepped forward, and the two embraced, brothers in arms once again.

"I'm so sorry, Ædall." That was all the Ealdor could think of.

For the first time in a while, Ædall gave a genuine smile, "No need to apologize twice, lord."

And the creatures who had secretly been watching this, but had pretended not to until this moment, applauded at the reunion of the two most powerful leaders in Calador.


	23. Chapter 23

**22**

Varrus was feeling more relaxed than he had felt in a season.

Adisa was cowed, reduced to a shadow, but now he was a voiceless shadow once more. There were times when Varrus wondered if he should have had Adisa accused of murder and hanged, but it wouldn't have worked well in the court. And anyway, Adisa was nothing without Arly. Arly had been the bridge between the Abbeydwellers and Adisa.

He was at present happily sampling Friar Jonno's latest creation. Supper was slightly subdued since the execution of Elfwin, but the Dibbuns were always a symbol of life returning to normal. They, who had heard nothing of Elfwin's execution, had hardly been affected if at all by the last few events.

He was the one in charge at last. It was back to going his way, at least in terms of Redwall.

For Varrus was still suffering from dreams of the past. Only last night he'd had another,

_He stands in the middle of the room. It is a large space for its time, and he still marvels at how such a construction could have been built._

_They stare at him. Hundreds of eyes, watching him carefully. They are eager to hear what he has to say, especially because of his company._

_Civets._

_They are huddled closely together, unused to this arena, this atmosphere, this crowd of hostile minds. They would normally have never been allowed to enter, to even be in sight of this place, but this is different. So much different._

_The small group of civets wait, silent towards this beacon of hatred towards them. They look to the one creature who has shown them kindness. He is pacing slowly, watching the faces of all who gaze upon him._

_Sweat begins to collect at the top of his skull. He feels it, knowing it will run down his face in good time. The heat, coupled with what he is about to do, will change everything for a long time, more than it already has been altered._

Varrus did not want to dwell any further on the memories that would not be exposed with the defeat of his foes.

He did not notice Sara get up and assemble the Dibbuns for bed-time. It was her duty, as it had been for a long time.

Varrus looked over at Verso, standing guard over the door, watching those that Varrus had pointed out to watch. Adisa, the main target, was especially observed, but Varrus did not trust one or two of Arly's other friends, who liked and sympathized with Adisa from a distance.

However, there seemed to be no threat left to challenge him. Life could return to the normal level that it had been for a long time.

"" "" "" "" " "" "" "" """ """

Adisa waited for another hour before excusing himself. He felt Verso's eyes upon him, but trusted the mole's bad eyesight to lose him in the others going to bed.

He mingled with others going through the halls, but unlike them, did not go to the usual quarters.

He headed off for the cellars, which were being operated by a hedgehog named Vinicio. He resembled Arly in terms of strength and openness, but was slimmer and taller than Arly had been. He had originally worked in the kitchens, planning to succeed old Friar Golwyn, but had been shunted sideways into the position of Cellarhog.

Vinicio was one of those who had sympathized with Arly in his time of imprisonment, and though he was resentful about his shaft, he was glad to have the time with the civet.

When Adisa got there, Vinicio was sitting with Mother Sara, Foremole, and Conrad. There was no surprise, for they had secretly arranged the meeting together. Sara and Foremole had finally been convinced that Varrus was corrupt.

It had been the execution of Elfwin that had done it for them. Varrus had taken the most extreme measures against a creature, and they suspected it had all been done against the wrong person.

"It's not just the execution, though,' Mother Sara spoke up, 'it's the attitude and the atmosphere that have possessed our Abbey. The elders are subdued or outspoken, while the youth like Verso are sullen and angry. Varrus is orchestrating it to his will."

It hurt Sara to break away from Varrus. He had been there for her from the start. They had always been together in learning about the Abbey, even though he had been there for two seasons longer. It hurt her to suspect him of anything malignant, but the truth something she valued immensely, perhaps more so because the truth of her parentage had been denied her.

Conrad agreed, "I have been ostracized in a sense. I was one of the only ones who was willing to defend Elfwin and as a result I've become an enemy of those loyal to Varrus. There is a darkness brewing here in this Abbey, and it's growing larger with every day."

Adisa didn't know if he liked Conrad. The mouse was very clever, and righteous enough, but something about him made Adisa repel slightly. Of course, this mouse was one of his only allies left, and Adisa put aside his suspicions to make Conrad feel welcome.

"What could we possibly do?" This was asked by Vinicio, who was handing out drinks to the gathering.

Conrad shrugged, "We could come up with a case against the death of Elfwin. But its very dangerous."

"Burr, woi is ut so dangeruss?" Foremole was the only mole to side with Adisa and he would have to be very careful about this alliance.

Conrad's face turned bleak as he spoke, "First off, the alliance would be recognized and some of us would be punished outside of the law. Secondly, we'd be accusing the Abbott of murder, something unheard of and would destroy the reputation of Redwall forever were it known. Thirdly, if Varrus did indeed frame Elfwin, he would not hesitate to arrange for our murders as well. He has some vicious supporters, mind you,' Conrad added as an afterthought, making Adisa think of Verso and his two friends Brigge and Wullock.

"We should find out who the real murderer of Slade was, then!" Vinicio spoke up, "If we could prove their guilt, we prove Elfwin's innocence. Then we can move on to the fact that Varrus falsified evidence and forced Elfwin to confess."

"Burr aye, be that thur truth, but zur, we doan't know who thur killer be!" Foremole shook his sable-coloured head helplessly.

Adisa surprised them all, "I do. I've known who it was before the murder was committed."


	24. Chapter 24

23

Thornback was tired of grief.

He had so much to grieve for it was impossible to feel for everything. So many people he had known were now dead or gone. Ben had disappeared, and Ebs, Mungan, Macrath, Shane, and now Raga were dead.

Raga had been murdered in a cold way, and his friends had found out of his death in much the same cold fashion. The bloody blade of Raga's sword had told them enough when a Black Rabbit had found it hanging on the fence near the Black Rabbit headquarters.

There had been much conflict. Jander had insisted he be brought back to Redwall to be buried in his home. But then Skipper and others decided that Raga had intended to stay for a prolonged amount of time in the Highlands. Why else would he have campaigned so vigourously for the role of sheriff?

Thornback knew that it was true, but only part of the reason. He was the other half of the reason: he had been the one to put it down as a necessity for Raga, and it was once again partly his fault that one of his friends was now dead.

How many more of his friends were doomed to die because of his decisions, Thornback wondered disparingly. Why was he fated to hold the life strands of a dozen different creatures, but he survived to feel the pain of their deaths?

He wondered if he was cursed. Perhaps because he had betrayed and broken away from his family that it was a sin that could not be undone, but then he dismissed this idea. Priam and Diomede had broken away from their families, yet both were prospering, despite being on opposite sides of the war.

Priam worried about Diomede constantly. What would happen when they clashed? Would the brothers fight to the bitter end, until one of them stood triumphant over the loser's bloody carcass? Or would they reconcile, shake off all sides of a pointless war, to try and end it properly? Priam would sometimes talk to Thornback about it, but Thornback had no answer for the heir to the Highlands' throne.

But meanwhile, the clues had been found, and they were ready to go find the King's Scroll and reinstate Priam as the king of the Highlands, heir to the Bigbones dynasty.

Maon was eager to find it, and teamed with his cousin Earnan to prepare for the journey into the tunnels. Thornback was surprised, because for weeks, Maon had hardly mentioned the Scroll or reminding them to find it. Now, the former zest to find the solution the conflict had risen quite frenziedly in the Black Rabbits leader.

"We have tae keep it quiet, lads.' Maon said one day, as they went over any possible loopholes in the plan, 'if Taskill finds oot about our little escapade, then we're as good as dead."

Suddenly, Maon's brother, Machar, ran into the headquarters, looking tired and distraught, as though he had run a long way to deliver horrible news.

"Quick! Bring weapons to the graveyard!" There was a massive graveyard in the Highlands, one of a few, but they were no less segregated than the rest of the city. Black Rabbits were buried together, as were all other tribes.

When Maon, Thornback, Earnan and several others arrived at the graveyard, they saw that the gravestones of Mungan, Macrath, and at least a dozen other Black Rabbits had been either smashed to pieces or smeared over with graffiti.

A group of grinning hares stood nearby, and Taskill himself was seated on a tombstone, calmly lighting a pipe and smoking it. A mischievous grin was playing along his face as he watched the angry faces of the Black Rabbits.

Maon stepped forward, his face furious, "A challenge."

Thornback started. Would there be another gang battle? It had been so long since the last one, Thornback thought. Ben had fought like a demon, Skipper and Jander were the stoutest of heroes, Ebs and Mungan had been murdered by Taskill, Peggy had died with a wail, and Macrath had taken command... All of this was like ancient history to Thornback now.

Taskill hesitated only to remove his pipe from his mouth. His expression unchanging, he answered contently, "Challenge accepted".

Maon and the Rabbits turned and left, but not before ordering new tombstones placed at the desecrated graves.

Thornback had never seen Maon so angry. The hare was barely seeing where he was walking. His thoughts seemed solely on the insult of disturbing the dead. Since when had he been so touchy on that that it would blind him to all else? Maon had always been the smart son of Mungan, so it had seemed, but what was wrong?

When they got back, Thornback tried to speak with his friend, "Are you alright, Maon?"

"Of course I'm not fooking alright!" Maon burst out angrily. Thornback did not flinch: the anger was not directed at him, so he had no reason to fear anything.

"I'm sure they didn't...er...disturb the bodies themselves..."

"Wot are ye talking about?" Maon was mildly surprised that Thornback had not caught on to the deeper meanings of the last few events.

"Aren't you angry from the desecrations?"

"Oh aye, but did ye not understand _why_ they did it and _what _was going on?"

Thornback suddenly realized, "He wanted your challenge."

Maon shook his head like a bull preparing to charge a matador, "Why do ye think Taskill himself headed such a petty act of vandalism? Because he knew that I would have to challenge him to save the honour of those buried there and also my own honour."

Thornback was suddenly confused, "You speak as though you wish you want this."

The more that Thornback thought it over, he realized that it would work out brilliantly for them. They could use it as a diversion, perhaps, or arrange it so that they could stop the fight from happening by displaying the Scroll and presenting the true king.

Maon listened to Thornback as he spoke of this idea, and shook his head, "Thornback, I'm getting tired of it all."

Thornback started, "What are you talking about?"

Maon shrugged angrily, "I lost most of mah family to this gang, but that only made me more determined to keep their cause alive. But now I've found something very valuable, and I don't want tae lose it."

Harmonia. She was behind his fears, Thornback was sure of it. He could never blame her though: she and Maon were new parents, and it was cruel for infants to grow up without the mother and father in their lives.

"But of course, now I can't back out of this, Thornback. If I go with you on this search for the Scroll, who will lead the Rabbits? And how could I hold my head up in the Highlands again? I have tae fight, or be supplanted."

Thornback looked up, "What?"

Maon had clearly thought up the idea as he had went along, for he had a look on his face that suggested he had a brilliant idea.

"Thornback, if a leader is supplanted, he is usurped by one of his own gang. They then inherit every part of leadership, including any challenges the previous leader made." He looked at Thornback, "I must ask you to do this, Thornback. Think of the leverets who will be able to wake up in the morning and see their Da and their Ma every day. I was lucky enough to get that for my childhood, and I can only wish et for my own children."

Thornback did not hesitate, "Done! But on one condition."

Maon looked surprised, "Eh?"

Thornback ploughed on, "You assist in finding the Scroll in my place."

Maon grinned, "Et's a deal, mah friend."

""" "" "" """ """ "" "" """" """ """

Several came to see the fight. No Nativists went, but they found out quick enough. Thornback and Maon, spear against sword, dueled by the light of the rising sun, for control of the Black Rabbits.

Few knew of the arrangements, but they could be told later. Thornback and Maon made sure it seemed real, and their blades whistled for each other so quickly that they seemed blurred during short bursts.

Thornback would never know how his spear shaft withstood all those heavy blows from Maon. The badger reckoned he would have to reinforce it with leather once the fight was over. For their part, both were sweating.

The way the result of a duel within the gang was decided upon whoever drew blood first. This was not just to help protect the individuals, but also to preserve perfectly good fighting beasts for the gang wars.

Maon was careful not to give Thornback any easy chance, but he did lay back on the offensive. Finally, with the new sun shining over a blue sky, Thornback's spear slipped under Maon's guard, slashing a scar upon the hare's upper chest.

The crowd stood still, amazed, for now there was a new leader of their gang.

Thornback, formerly of Salamandastron, had now become Thornback of the Black Rabbits.


	25. Chapter 25

24

Thornback, as leader of the Black Rabbits, attended the council to see where the battle would take place. Taskill had not looked furious at the change in leadership. He merely smiled unpleasantly at Thornback. Clearly he had a suspicion of the secret deal Maon had cut with Thornback, but he was not sure. Mainly because of the rumours spreading across the city.

The small group that had watched the fight had spread the story around by word of mouth, and before long, the whole city seemed to know of the duel of the ages. Maon, it was said, had broken Thornback's spear in two pieces and had nearly slain the badger before Thornback had fought against the attack. Others persisted that Maon had been brought to his knees early on, while still others claimed that the sun had gotten in both their eyes, but Thornback's view of the sun had been blocked for an instant by a passing bird.

It made Thornback laugh as he heard the different accounts of the duel, knowing the truth but refusing to reveal it.

Harmonia had wept with joy to hear that her husband was retiring from battle. She had constantly worried for him, and had bravely raised her children in the face of the risk that her husband went through constantly. But now, only one thing remained before he could calmly raise his family in peace.

The King's Scroll would be found by Maon, his cousin Earnan, Priam, and Harmonia. The last two would be necessary, for both were well educated in the old terms, and Priam was the only one who could enter the tomb of the Kings should it be necessary.

Thornback, meanwhile would lead the Black Rabbits to war.

The Council was new to the badger, who had never been in attendance before. The leaders of the gangs announced their gangs to ensure that the gang was represented. The

"The Razor Blades."

"The Immortal Guard."

"The Golden Eyes."

"The King's Own."

"The Black Rabbits." Thornback finished off the first line.

The opposition sounded off just as curtly,

"The Progressionists."

"The Tally Hovers."

"The Silver Blades."

"The Highland Guard."

"The Confederation of Highland Nativists." Taskill was the only one at ease, sitting back in his chair, stuffing his pipe, which stuck out of his mouth as he spoke.

The Council continued on, speaking of things that Thornback would never have imagined were discussed. Such things as personal feuds among the gang, the conditions of war-ravaged towns, ransoms... it occurred to Thornback that this was perhaps one of the only times that proper action was taken in the well-being of the Highlands. This would have to change once Priam became king.

The leader of the Silver Blades demanded to know why there was a badger leading a gang called the Black Rabbits. Thornback didn't need to tell them about the duel (everyone knew about the 'legendary' battle) but he did answer questions from his allies. They had not had the chance to talk to him before, and they now wished to see for themselves whether a sound replacement had been made.

The leader of the King's Own asked him if he shared Maon's views concerning the affairs with Salamandastron. Thornback confirmed that he wanted the old alliance shared by Bucko and Brocktree, but he also planned to restore the monarchy with the arrival of Priam.

Thornback could see hesitation in some of his allies' eyes. They clearly used their cause as a pretense to pursue power shamelessly, but when the time came to answer to those they supposedly fought for, they would have to realize that their power would end. Perhaps they would resist, but that was left for later. The sides had been drawn, and alliances confirmed.

The talk shifted to the battle itself. Since the Black Rabbits had issued a challenge, they were to pick the battlefield.

Once it was explained to him, Thornback spoke up without hesitation, "Where Mungan and Ebs died. Where Maon and Macrath slew many, where Ben fought like a demon, and where I saw my first battle."

The statement seemed melodramatic in hindsight, but there were those who swore Thornback's eyes turned red that moment.

Taskill smiled; how fitting it was that the battle would recommence with the survivors of the first round. This round would hopefully see his side victorious once more.

The council ended, and Thornback began to see who he could count on to being there.

With Maon serving as a guide behind his shoulder, he amassed the number of Black Rabbits who would fight, as well as supplies and other necessary subjects.

Skipper and Jander would support their friend to the death, and it struck Thornback that the three of them were the only ones left from the original expedition to the north. Log a Log had died, and the shrews had long departed. Ebs and Raga were dead, as were Shane and Peggy. Talia and June had been killed in a raid only a week ago, and Ben had been driven out.

So many dead, it was unbelievable. This was what it felt like to be a Highlander? To know more than four people you knew to be killed?

Thornback knew that if there would ever come a time to change this all, now was the proper time. It was time to redeem the Highlands, back to the way the founders had envisioned it.

Maon meanwhile prepared to leave under cover of preparation for the gang battle. They entered the tunnels from the Black Rabbits' headquarters, and disappeared.

Just before they left, Maon and the others had bidden farewell to their comrades who would go and fight the battle. They were brave beasts every one of them, and they in turn gave Maon and the others their best wishes. If the King's Scroll could be found, then it meant the end of the war.

Everything was arranged. Thornback donned war paint in the Black Rabbits' proper colours, and picked up his spear. Knowing that he would not use it extensively, he also carried Maon's war hatchet, and one of Macrath's vicious-looking knives.

The hares assembled in the Black Rabbits' headquarters numbered around two score. They stood waiting for their leader, and gave him nods and small salutes when he arrived. There was no ill will meant against Thornback's usurpation, probably because Maon had made it clear that he wanted no grudges.

Thornback looked at one large hare standing to attention, carrying a massive falchion, which was a mix between a sword and an axe. He gave a small nod, "Thornback." There was no special rank within the gangs outside of the respectful 'sir', for everybody found it a bad idea. There was rumour, however, that Taskill would not respond unless called 'lord'.

Thornback, being a badger, was almost as tall as the hare, though being younger. He looked kindly at the fighter, "What's your name, comrade?"

"Hamish."

"Listen then, Hamish. I need you to look over the right flank in battle today, and see that the hares have full hearts."

Hamish nodded, proud that he was seen as important enough to assist in this fight.

Thornback looked at the other hares, "You are the bravest hares I know. I saw you fight under Mungan bravely, and then under Macrath, and under Maon as well. You have earned every honour to be given, so I would humbly ask you to do the same for me."

The hares smiled at his words, or if they did not smile, nodded to show their appreciation. The time had now come to go to the battle.

Thornback looked to the hares with the pipes, flute and drum, "Begin lads."

The tunnel was opened, and fires were lit to show the way.

Thornback marched down the path he knew would lead to the battlefield. The hares followed behind, joined by other Black Rabbits on the way. Skipper and Jander arrived on Thornback's flanks, leading their own contingents of hares. Skipper had even rallied a few sea otters into the ranks, those who were willing to take sides in an attempt to end the destructive conflict.

Thornback walked with a clear head: he knew what he had to do, and he went towards it with relief that it would soon be over.


	26. Chapter 26

25

While Thornback went to battle, Maon and the others had entered the path that would hopefully lead to the King's Scroll.

The clues had been found and assembled. Before they had gone out, Priam had read them over once again to review. In proper order, they began with the first clue:

_Death is near, in the form of battlefields_

_None are guaranteed safe from death's vast greed_

_If I am fated to die, if I must yield_

_This is the clue for what I owe to creed_

_It can be found not by merely blind search_

_I have hidden it to be safe from foes_

_The clue lies not in castle, house, or church_

_It will be a hard search to end our woes_

_Do not despise me for my many deeds_

_I acted on a full heart my whole life_

_If I'm fated to be carrion feed_

_Then use thy knowledge to prevent strife_

_The second clue is found in a place of _

_Beware not to inhale, be it your last breath_

The second clue, the only one they hadn't had, followed up:

_If you have proved that your heart is pure_

_Then may your odyssey be doubly blessed_

_For the path you face is hard to endure_

_Remember that the right path is to the west  
_

_The Gods shall look upon the true chosen_

_For the Scroll is meant only for the heir_

_The Highlands shall need a king ambrosian_

_Who will use the Scroll to banish despair_

_There will come a time where what you first knew_

_That knowledge you keep so long in your heart_

_Is incorrect from a certain point of view_

_And only then can the time for obstacles start_

_The third clue lies not far from you were_

_If thou remained where second discovery occurred _

And then came the third clue, which they knew well:

_The paper I have for you to seek out_

_Is hidden near the temple of my lords_

_They lie undisturbed, well-preserved and proud_

_With shields and armour and axe and swords_

_He roams the mountains and forests of pine_

_She flies in the cold air of the far north_

_Take the missing link, and apply one plus nine_

_With this in your mind, go out and forth_

_But I must warn you of sacrilege_

_Do not get caught, for useless is my pledge_

The second clue was a puzzle, for Priam felt as if he should know what it was talking about. It sounded so familiar to him, but he couldn't place his finger on it.

He looked at his brother-in-law, "Doesn't it sound like we should know what it's talking about?"

Maon smiled and rubbed one of his ears, "Aye, sounds like something that we should be aware of, no?"

Earnan had no clue, "Weel, Ah'm at a loss of unnerstandin'."

Harmonia suddenly stared in shock, "Shame on the both of us, Priam."

Priam looked at her, "Why?"

Harmonia's face was splitting into a smile of triumph even as she spoke, "We should have known instantly. It's obviously talking about Ursus and Aves!"

Maon's ear, bent over from his paw's scratching, loosened almost of its own accord and sprung into the air. He and Earnan stared at each other, for this was an amazing discovery of Highland history. For this meant that the Kings of the Highlands had been worshippers of the bear and the owl gods!

"Of all the things tae discover..." Maon couldn't believe it. It changed everything for them. If the Kings had worshipped Ursus and Aves, that meant that surely, the Highlands had been formed as place of worship. It had been a haven for those who had worshipped Ursus and Aves, but when the Kings had been exterminated and when hundreds of others came to live there, the religion dwindled and fell from importance. Eventually, they must have been driven out for the fact that they represented the royalism most of all.

It changed the aspect that the religion was viewed as, and the conflict was brought to a far more personal level with Priam and Harmonia. Their religion had been persecuted against merely for the fact that they had been a representation of the old monarchy, and others wanted it different. Fergus had been persecuted for his religion as much as for his line.

Priam came out of his surprise first, "So that means that we are not looking for the royal tombs. We are looking for a hidden shrine dedicated to Ursus and Aves."

Harmonia looked at the clues, "You're right. It says here, _'temple of my lords'_. Why would he call the Royal Tomb a temple? He says here, 'doubly blessed by the gods'. Two gods! And then it talks of one who roams the forests of the north, and another who flies in the northern skies. It even calls Aves a female and Ursus a male. There can be no denying it. We are looking for the royal shrine."

Earnan was mystified, "Ef only we knew where tae start."

Maon looked at Priam, "Bethia."

Before another half-hour was passed, they were standing in Bethia's library, asking her about the royal shrine.

Bethia peeled back old pages as quick as possible, though she was desperately careful to preserve the pages. She looked at the written words, peering for signs of a royal shrine.

Finally, she looked up in triumph, "I have it!"

The four hares leaned in eagerly to hear the answer.

Bethia indicated a page in an ancient book, "They say that Bucko Bigbones wanted freedom of worship, but also wanted to keep it a secret, to avoid any prejudice. Bigbones also believed that if he kept his religion to himself, his subjects would follow the example."

Priam shook his head in admiration. His ancestors had all been so clever, knowing it was best hiding their faith so as to avoid conflict within their domains. If he became king, he would follow that tradition and advise his own children to do the same.

Bethia continued, "The royal shrine had to be built in the only place that was to all but the king."

"The Tomb of the Kings?" Maon interrupted.

Bethia nodded, "It's one of the reasons that the Tomb was forbidden to the public. If you entered the Tomb, there is another passage that leads to the shrine."

"So we still have to brave the obstacles set up against tomb raiders." Priam spoke out resignedly. The others nodded solemnly.

Bethia had already given them information on the obstacles that were known of (the fourth was as yet unknown, for no thief had ever breached the security) so the four hares went off into the tunnels to the Tomb of the Kings.

The door was simple enough, except for the almost obscure carving of a crown and a sword. Maon hesitated before he opened the door: it was going to be a terrible deed to invade such a sacred place.

Harmonia sensed his hesitation, "Maon, we are accompanied by the true heir of the Highlands."

"Aye, but me or Earnan aren't related to the king are we? It's sacrilege." It made little sense, but it was a fear bred into Maon's bones. To never ever try and enter the Tomb. Even the effort he had put into it so far was halted by this superstition.

Priam sensed it and looked solemn, "As heir of the Highlands throne, I appoint you, Maon son of Mungan, husband to my sister, my most trusted advisor, and I remind you that you are also a member of my family able to enter the Tomb."

He turned to Earnan, "And you, Earnan son of Eoderon, to be the captain of the King's Bodyguard once it is resurrected, with authority to enter hear without fear of sacrilege."

It was the first time anyone had seen such kingly nobility in Priam so strongly projected. It has been said that a person can become a true leader when the responsibility is given to him. Such was the case with Priam son of Orestes. He looked as though he was indeed sitting on the throne of the Highlands. He was the true heir of Bucko's line.

Maon and Earnan, truely heartened by Priam, opened the door. They entered with renewed vigour. Such was Priam's attitude that he calmed them all to continue on, into the most ancient relics of the Highlands, for Priam was of the authority to give it to them.

"" " " """ "" """ "" """" "" " " "" "" "

They kept their eyes open for the trapdoor that lay in the shadows of the passageway. The corridor was wide enough for two hares to easily walk side by side without their ears touching the ceiling. It had been fitted out for those carrying the Kings into their final resting place.

The darkness brought some nervousness into them. The shadows seemed to loom out, concealing a trap of unknown shape and size.

Suddenly Earnan called out, "There it is!"

Hesitatingly, Maon poked forward with his sword blade. It went down into the hole.

"Bring the lantern, Harmonia." Harmonia came forward, and they saw that there were indeed a series of sharp spikes at the bottom of the long fall. It was impossible to miss the spikes, and real proof existed in the forms of the several skeletons that lay broken upon the ground.

Maon shuddered as the four hares leaped to the other side. If they hadn't been looking for it, they would have died.

The path continued, turning sharply a few ways, before there was another light.

The four hares started in shock.

Several mean-looking hares stood there... with Diomede!

"You!" Priam stared in shock and anger, but the anger vanished when he saw his brother's face. It was bruised from beatings and it looked that Diomede had a fading black eye. He looked cowed, frightened, subdued. He looked like a bully that had been given a taste of his own medicine.

Maon stared balefully at Taskill's cronies, "Ach, Ah know most of ye. Yer all Drostan's former group." Drostan had been Taskill's best lieutenant, killed by Ebs when he had tried to murder Maon and Thornback. Now the four hares were at their mercy.

One of them smiled dangerously, "Weel now, here we all are, and how comforting too. Now you can show us the way across these obstacles one by one."

"An' wot makes ye think we'll do that?" Earnan challenged as he and the others drew their weapons. Harmonia carried a long staff that would easily knock out a hare, as well as a long knife. Priam and Maon carried swords and dirks, while Earnan had a medium sized but fearsome-looking falchion. They could easily defend themselves in the corridor.

"Because if you don't help us,' the hare continued as if nothing had happened, 'we'll do him in." Diomede was instantly surrounded by blades that could easily cut his throat if he moved. The hare went still, his eyes wide in horror and despair.

Harmonia and Priam faltered, and Maon knew then that they could never watch their brother die. He had never been part of a raid, he had not hurt anyone, and his worst crime was being a cruel-minded and resentful person who had insulted his family. These crimes could be forgiven in a youth like Diomede, and anyway, Priam and Harmonia would rather see no shed at all. They had seen more than enough for a lifetime.

Maon sighed. He couldn't watch it either. He looked at his cousin, and Earnan nodded. The four hares reluctantly handed their weapons over to the two hares who had suddenly came forward to take them."Right then,' said the leader, who Maon knew was named Lochlann, 'Now here's wot we're gonna do. We're kinda stuck here, and this bonny prince laddie,' here he pointed at Diomede, 'doesn't have a fooking clue what tae do. So you're gonna get us across or will be spilled." His cronies laughed and tickled Diomede's ears with razor sharp knife blades.

"What does it matter if you're going to kill us anyway?" Priam's voice was defiant and without any fear.

Lochlann smiled, "Oh you'll not be killed, lad. If you don't do this, you an' yer sister will be forced into giving us the secret way to yer moontain sanctuary."

Priam paled beneath his fur, "And if we cooperate?"

Lochlann shrugged, to lay down that he did not care either way, "Then we'll lose interest in an old priest with no sons left tae challenge Taskill."

Clearly he knew Diomede and Priam were Orestes' only sons through Diomede, for the hare gave a small twitch and whimpered.

Priam and Harmonia did not need to look at each other to agree. They stepped forward to show their answer.

Lochlann led the four hares to the next obstacle. As Bethia had said, there was a chess-like set of tiles with different letters per tile. They would have to walk on the right letters to pass. But what was the word?

Priam and the others looked at the clues again. There was a mention of knowledge you knew best being wrong in some way, but what knowledge?

Earnan looked up, "Do ye think that it's another take on the king's religion?"

Priam looked up, "What do you mean? I can't think how anything could be wrong about Ursus and Aves."

Maon suddenly looked up, "What are their names again? Which animal is which?" He clearly had an idea.

"Ursus the bear and Aves the owl. Why?"

Maon's eyes widened, "It's incorrect!"

Harmonia stared, "How?"

"Because Ursus is the name of a bear's genus."

"A genus?"

"A genus is one way to classify an animal. There's a number of steps tae classify different animals. Like how we're different from say, a badger or a weasel. But there's also levels tae show the difference between mountain hares and forest hares.'

Maon continued, 'Ursus is a definition of bears. It makes bears unique. But Aves is not a genus!"

Harmonia and Priam looked at each other. It was surprising, but Bucko had been right. It was not the end of the world if the names did not match up.

Earnan thought more practically, "So what is a snowy owl's genus?"

Maon looked at the letters arranged in no particular order, "Bubo."

He stood up and walked toward the letters. Gingerly placing one foot on the nearest 'B', Maon realized he had been correct. The tile did not budge, supporting Maon's weight. Maon continued onwards, followed by the others.

Lochlann smiled as he resumed holding his knife next to Diomede's throat, "Very weel done. Ah'm thinkin' we'll get through this quicker than we thought."

"One more left." Priam said in a resentful voice. Maon almost looked at him in surprise, but then nodded in agreement instead.

Lochlann took the bait: pushing Earnan forward, he called out, "Weel then, let's be off, laddies!"

Maon and the others stepped forward, knowing what was expected of them. A massive door stood in front of them, blocking all entrance. There was a series of key holes in the door, almost a hundred lining the left and right sides of the door. There was also a large compass painted in the center of the door, with West placed on the left and East to the right as usual.

Priam looked at Maon, "What do we have to do now? Check the clues."

With Lochlann and his hares watching them warily, they read over the clues once again.

Harmonia's eyes lit up, "Wait a minute. It says to take the missing link and add ten. Do you think it refers to the door?"

Earnan pointed at another line, "Aye, mebbe. But Ah think this un's also a bit strange. Tae the west?"

Maon looked at the compass. Slowly, he put his paw against the 'W' and exclaimed in surprise, "It's a latch!"

Pulling it open, he drew forth a large old-fashioned key. But what key hole to put it in? The key looked old, and would surely break if they forced it into a different hole.

Lochlann spoke up impatiently, "Well what is it? Which one do we put it into?"

Priam looked at the door, "Success lies to the west... add the missing link plus ten..." He looked at Maon, "You talked about how Aves is a class and Ursus is a genus, right? And Bubo is Aves' genus, so what is Ursus' class?"

Maon was so surprised that he hesitated in answering, "Mammalia."

Priam smiled in triumph and looked at the door. Taking the key, he thrust it into the sixteenth key hole on the west side of the door.

The hares there, including Diomede and the others holding him hostage, let out a gasp of surprise as the door opened inward. It led to a dark corridor, the end unseen.

Shoving Harmonia and Earnan to the side, Lochlann darted forward, "Here it is, then!" He held up his torch and in the fire's light, he and the rest could see an incredible sight.

The Tomb of the Kings!

There were three marble coffins set out in a row at the far end of the room, which made the place seem incredibly empty. Shafts of light came down from slits heading upward, allowing oxygen to enter the chamber. It had been built to fit at least fifty of those coffins. The walls were so smooth it did not seem like stone, and in the dim light, they could see that there were many ancient runes on the walls. It was a startling sight, for although it was very bare, the stories and superstition woven in with this place shook the minds of all the hares. They stared in awe, terrified to be the first to step forward into the sacred room. Even Taskill's henchmen, having come to do malice, could not help but disbelieve the fact that they had actually made it to a place that had never been penetrated by those without authority before.

All eyes, even Diomede, turned to Priam. He stood erect and proud, looking at his ancestors for the first time. He took a step forward into the room which could be entered only by the royal house and those with strictest authority.

As Priam walked forward, he suddenly felt the weight of his destiny claw at him. He would one day be buried in this room, alongside his ancient relatives and he would be joined by his descendents who became king. It was inevitable, but what was not inevitable was how he would reign. That was entirely of his own making, and in that short moment, Priam made a silent vow on his right to be king that he would earn the right to be buried here.

While Priam went through this revolution with himself, the others felt like a spell had been broken. A creature had entered the room for the first time in eons. Taskill's hares had lost their hesitation and prodded the others forward ahead of them.

Priam, Diomede, Maon, Earnan, and Harmonia approached the coffins. Each had been shaped to fit the physical appearances of the kings and queens within the tomb, or so it seemed.

Priam confirmed it, "It looks like the ashes of both the king and queen were laid in the coffin, and their images engraved as the lid. The ones who did this were surely master craftsbeasts." His voice was hoarse, and his eyes became moist as he looked upon the legacy left to him.

Harmonia spoke, "Where is the Shrine?"

They looked around. There was no other door or passageway, nor any indication of such. This was the last trap, one that required knowledge only the heir armed with the sacred clues could have.

Lochlann snarled angrily, "Weel, this is fine. We can barricade the entrance tae this place so that no one ever comes here again."

He smiled at the five, "So be et then, eh? The last of the usurpers left to die in the halls of their sires."

"I don't think so."

Lochlann turned to look at the Nativist that spoke, confusion and anger on his face. A noose was drawn around Lochlann's neck and he was physically dragged out of the tomb, all the while choking his life away.

The others were so stunned that they stood there for a few seconds. It was all they needed. Earnan clenched his fists together and broke the neck of a hare that held a club. Grabbing it, he tossed it to Maon before landing a hearty punch into another hare's jugular.

Maon saw what Earnan was doing. No blood would be shed in this holiest of places. He swung the club at another hare, parried the blow, and knocked him senseless.

Priam and Harmonia darted forward, and the others were soon dealt with. The bodies were dragged out of the tomb, to where the traitor stood by the body of Lochlann.

The hare suddenly sank to his knees in front of Priam, "I beg ye forgiveness, sire. I have many sins toaccount for, but please let me prove mahish to repent through tha fact that I have come to your rescue when the other Nativists would not."

"Et's probably safe to say that yer no longer a Nativist," said Maon, staring in surprise at the act of humility and surrender.

Priam also seemed moved by this display, and he clasped the hare by his shoulders. Pulling him up, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Mah name is Sinon, sire."

"Then Sinon, there will come a time for you to repay for your crimes, but now you must help if we are to regain the Highlands."

Earnan looked at the Tomb, "But now we have tae find the Scroll."

They reentered the Tomb, looking around. They were stuck on where to go now, so now they had to wait.

Diomede, who had stood by the coffins the whole time, stepped up to his brother and sister, "Thank you."

He looked terrified still, and his voice was meek. He had caused a lot of trouble, mostly for himself, and he knew it. Priam and Harmonia were, however, eager to reconcile rather than revenge upon their flesh and blood. Priam and Harmonia hugged him and told him that his father would be overjoyed to see him. Diomede smiled, the first smile he had probably made since he had left his home.

Meanwhile, Earnan was peering at the clues for perhaps the dozenth time since they had entered the caves. There was a way out of this predicament, and he would find out what it was.

He looked up at Maon, "Say, cousin, ye solved the door myst'ry because of the success being in the west?"

Seeing what Earnan was getting at, Maon looked to the west end of the room. Bounding forward, He felt the stone wall as if a secret passageway would open up.

Diomede and the others headed over to where Maon stood. Diomede looked at the wall, "I doubt that it's the answer, Maon. I think it's to do with something else."

Maon frowned to himself out of his lack of success, "Well wot do ye sug- Argh!"

Hopping on one foot, Maon yelped out loud as he massaged his footpaw. Harmonia stared at him, "What did you stub your paw on?"

Between his pain, Maon answered, "Ah've no idea! Ye see anythin' below me?"

Diomede called out, "There it is!"

It was a latch! To a trapdoor! It had been painted an exact colour as the floor, and would have been missed by anyone else had Maon not stepped on it.

Priam opened it and the group headed down. It was a dark passage, but only went a short while before heading upwards again. Priam was the first to open the latch.

It was the Royal Shrine of the Kings!

It was a perfectly square room, far smaller than the Tomb. It was devoid of much furniture or embroidery. A massive statue of Ursus and Aves stood on the far end of the room, and on the wall opposite were several lines of the same ancient text they had seen in the Tomb. Because of the smaller room, the light from their torches caused the entire text to be legible.

Diomede read the title, far larger than the rest of the writing, "Here be the contents of the sacred alliance between Bucko Bigbones and Brocktree."

Priam looked at Harmonia, "You can write the best of us. Make a copy, and then we shall change this city once and for all."


	27. Chapter 27

26

Thornback never looked behind him. If he was to be the only one to march forward to face Taskill, then so be it. It was a standard that gang leaders had to match up to. If they could trust their gang so much then that proved their worth in many ways. And besides, Thornback reasoned, I'd never be alone. Skipper and Jander would stick with me to the death, brave beasts that they are.

The music continued as they moved through the tunnel. Thornback remembered how Ben had walked forward and had kicked it open with his foot. Or was that the door by the Painted Ones? So long ago he could no longer remember. Or maybe battle was now the foremost thought in his mind.

The door opened to the clearing, only now it was no longer covered with a layer of snow. Taskill was also there, waiting on him, as was befitting of the challenged waiting on his challenger.

Thornback glared at Taskill, and felt the deep anger rise within himself. He felt the reasons he hated this hare, and he knew that it would be settled on this day.

He thought of Ebs, Macrath, Raga, others. The thought of those that had died here made him suddenly quote an old poem he had heard, "It can't be seen but there's blood on the green."

Behind him, Skipper and Jander looked at each other, bemused. It was now the time to end it once and for all. Bracing themselves, they hefted their weapons.

Taskill had a little smile as he stood in front of his troops, hat and overcoat already gone. His knives were in prominence, and he stood ready. He smirked at Thornback's odd sentence, "On your order, badger." Tradition had ended the moment a badger led the Black Rabbits

Thornback hefted his spear and turned to look at those behind him. All the gangs had come, and in prominence so it seemed. He tried to look at the hares' faces to see if he knew anyone. A number of them nodded their respect, and waited for his word to start the battle.

He turned back around, his face a mask of death, and he uttered another verse of the poem,

That's what minstrel sing  
Join in the horrible screams  
Take part in murderous deeds  
Renowned be the lion-hearted!

With that, Thornback threw back his head and howled to the heavens, "I am Thornback of the Black Rabbits! Eeeeuuuuuulllaaaaaaallliaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Drawing his short sword, he pounded forward, straight for Taskill. Behind him, the others charged to join the fight, and with that, the great battle had begun.

Two hares leaped for Thornback, seeking to kill the enemy leader, but in the midst of the haze that he saw through the Bloodwrath, Thornback felt as though time had slowed down, and he himself was fast. It was no surprise when one fell back headless and another got his spear in his midriff. Thornback was at the peak of his rage, and nothing would stop him until Taskill was dead.

Behind him, the hares fought viciously. Skipper and Jander fought back to back, lashing out with their arms, faces grim against the tide of anger and hate.

Taskill waded into the fight, slashing at those around him. Suddenly he motioned to a hare beside him, and the henchman moved through the melee until he was behind Thornback. Taskill grinned as he cut down a member of the King's Own. Thornback would be dead soon, and this conflict ended.

Thornback was unaware of the hare behind him. So intent was he upon fighting his way to Taskill, he never saw the club whistle for the back of his head. Although the hare had swung with all his might, the badger was not unconscious. He fell to one knee, growling in pain and confusion. The Nativists crowded in and attacked furiously.

With a united roar of anger, the Black Rabbits rallied the moment they saw their leader fall. Ten or more hurried forward, and more came quickly. Hurling themselves upon the Nativists, they slew them without mercy, putting their lives in perilous danger for the leader they respected.

Thornback was helped up onto his feet. He had been stabbed in the side, as well as both legs and one arm, but thanks to the quick rescue of his gang, he had escaped death by a second.

He was also still consumed by the Bloodwrath, "Where is Taskill!" He raged at the hares that helped him up. Taking his spear, Thornback used it as a staff, "Bring me to Taskill!"

One hare grabbed Thornback's shoulder, "Wait, sir. He's still here, we'll get to him."

Thornback nodded, and threw his head back, "Black Rabbits unite!"

The Black Rabbits heard him and they fought their way towards the main group. Skipper and Jander arrived too, both bleeding from wounds. They nodded briefly to Thornback when they saw his wounds.

"We have to drive a way forward through the ranks. We need some organization!" Thornback snarled, and he would doubtless have given them instructions for battle had not everyone heard a deafening roar sound from beyond the battle.

Taskill heard it too, and for a moment he thought he was being decieved by some spell.

From all over the city, hares poured in fury. All of them any age, gender, and background. They came waving torches and pikes. They waved their ordinary tools and brandished weapons just as easily.

Thornback was stunned. This was the mob, but why had it arisen now?

The gangs ceased to fight, and they stared in some shock at the mob. Doubtless there were some relatives in that crowd, and they wondered what was going on.

It soon became clear. The crowd attacked all the gangs, no matter what they wore on their sleeve. No sides were exempted in the attack.

The Black Rabbits had gathered together, and Thornback steered them away from the mob. For he now knew what was going on. The city had choked on the corpses this gang rule had made, and now they were trying to eliminate the gangs forever. The mob had possessed the city and they had finally had enough.

Thornback did not mind this idea, but if it was going to have creatures he cared for killed, he would try and get them out of the way.

Suddenly he saw Taskill, trying to muscle his way out of the scuffle. Nodding to Skipper and Jander, Thornback headed forward accompanied by squirrel and otter.

Taskill saw them coming. Yelling in fury he threw his knife at Thornback's face, only to have Jander shove Thornback to the side in time. Skipper hurled forward, his rudder making contact with Taskill's chest. The weight of the powerful otter's tail caused Taskill to fall flat on his back with a gasp of pain. Swiftly, Jander and Thornback apprehended him and held him fast.

Thornback snarled. It was over. They had defeated Taskill, but they were now all going to die under the madness that had possessed the citizens of the Highlands.

No, Thornback thought. They had opened their eyes and found their courage. They were at last starting a revolution against a murderous system. If it was his time to die, then so be it.

But it was not his time to die. A loud voice called out, "HALT!"

The citizens, the gang members, everyone heard it, and they all looked around. They saw who it was.

Priam stood on a platform nearby, flanked by his brother and sister. Maon and Earnan stood by in front of the platform. Maon cried out in a loud voice, "All bow tae King Priam! The descendant of Bigbones himself!"

The crowd was suddenly silent. The king? Surely not. That line had died out a long time ago.

Taskill snarled, "Proof! I demand proof!"

Thornback and Jander, still holding him tightly, took him closer to Priam. Skipper led the Black Rabbits to Maon and Earnan. Because of Thornback's quick thinking, they had suffered the least casualties of the mob's attack. Now they stood with the king.

Priam drew forth a scroll, "Behold, a copy of Bucko Bigbones' agreement with Lord Brocktree of Salamandastron! Taken as is recorded in the Tomb of the kings!"

A hare came forward from behind Priam, "I vouch this upon my life that this hare is king! He ventured into the hall of his fathers and emerged with the scroll!"

Taskill stared in fury at Sinon, "Traitorous scum. Easy to be a sycophant to the winner eh?"

Sinon returned the stare, "You have sent on a path of evil, Taskill. You usurped the throne for yourself, acting like a king!"

"I AM THE KING!"

All stared at this most loathed of hares, incredulous.

Taskill had bellowed his statement out with such vigour that all heard it. He continued, "You fools! You are guilty of usurping the rightful king of the Highlands!"

Priam stared, "No..."

"YES! I am descended from Alastor the One-eyed, slayer of Blackheart! Eldest son and heir of Airril, grandson of Bran, who was cousin to Bigbones himself!"

Thornback was so shocked he nearly let go of the hare. Lies, surely? It was impossible! He spoke up, "Alastor had no sons, you know this!' Thornback stared at Maon appealingly, 'You told me that day!"

Maon could only open and close his mouth, "Aye. He never married..."

"Aye he didn't want to put her in danger from the anarchy. He was going to marry her and legitimize their kids when the time was safe, but it never came. His lover was named Barsine."

Maon started forward, eyes wide, "Bluid and bones, but this is all crackpot!"

"It's true." Bethia came forward, her face grim and wet with tears, "Barsine fled into the mountains to find Fergus. She gave birth to children, and when they grew old enough, she led them back to the Highlands when it was clear that Fergus would not return. She renounced the faith of Ursus and Aves, and decided to find Alastor and marry him. She was murdered two days after her return."

This was insane. A page of history, remembered by only a few, now revealed.

Bethia continued, "Her children went into hiding, leading secretive lives, but were murdered one by one until only one remained. That was Aeneas, her youngest son. He fled the Highlands to live away from it all. He built a little house in the forest for his wife and child, another son, and they lived there until that son buried them with the house. The son was named Remus. Remus went back to the Highlands, and lived there for the rest of his life."

Bethia sighed and continued, "Taskill and I are the last descendants of that line. He and I are cousins, but I wish,' she said with real sadness in her heart, 'I wish that I could deny it to the last."

Thornback was bowled over. This was a dangerous moment for all now.

Taskill felt the slackness of his captors. Breaking free, he strode toward the mob, "I am the king by rights! I have hidden that fact for a long time, knowing that the gangs would rule long before they ever let a king back in! And so it remains! Return to your hidey hole, sons of Fergus! I came back! I returned to rule the Highlands again!"

"And what have you done in all that time?' Thornback bellowed, 'to make you think these people will let things return to normal?"

It was suddenly a signal, and the townspeople assembled began yelling accusations and hatred against Taskill, and the more voices were raised, the more they worked themselves up. Taskill tensed himself suddenly, and drew one last knife from his belt.

"Thank the Northern Gods,' he suddenly said, so quiet only Thornback heard him, 'I die a true Highlander."

He yelled and rushed forward, as if attempting to fight his way out. Before his knife could fall, eight spears and pitchforks stabbed him, some passing right through his body. Others hurried forward, anxious to strike at the hated leader before he died. Others danced on the corpse long after he had breathed his last.

Priam stood forward, "He was the rightful leader of the Highlands, that hare.' he said to some protest, 'but look what he did!' This got some cheers of agreement, "I am Priam, descended from Fergus, the younger brother, and I say to you, I will never let this happen again! I will return the Highlands to what it once was!"

He had done it. The Highlanders united, and stood together at last, hailing their king.

Thornback smiled at Priam, "You didn't tell them about Ursus and Aves."

Priam smiled back, "I've done a lot of thinking, and I think that if I tried to impose the Northern Gods upon my subjects, then what kind of a leader would I be?"

Maon smiled and embraced Harmonia, "Et's over now." He was weeping as he said it, "Et's all over."


	28. Chapter 28

27

Ben sat in the shade of a tree, trying to hide from the broiling afternoon sun. He had almost forgotten how hot it got after spending so much time in the north. He needed some time to get used to the sun's heat.

He played the fiddle to himself, wondering how far was left to go to his destination. He was a mercenary after all, and so was on the lookout for any chance to give a service for hire. You never knew where work could be found.

Ben had removed the Highlands from his mind, and there were twinges of regret. Whenever he thought of Thornback and Jander and Skipper he felt a twinge that would continue to eat him up afterwards. But those moments were happening less frequently.

Now that he was back in familiar territory, he could resume his life as it had always been before the Painted Ones had attacked him. It was time to get on with his life.

Ben picked up his shillelagh and looped it around his paw. His battleaxe had been long ago traded away for some fat fish an otter had been carrying along. Ben now had a haversack of food and belongings, his fiddle, and as always, his shillelagh, heavily notched from the fight up in the north. But there was still room for many more, he reckoned. He had begun to make little crosses out of the first few notches overlapped with new ones, so it would be fine if he kept that up.

Where to now, Ben thought. He had time on his hands, and was in the mood to do some honest work for hire. Perhaps lodging with a farmer and assisting in clearing the fields. That would be a good idea if he had kept his axe. But then there was also assisting a fisherman. Raccoons were almost as good at catching fish as otters, though not the best of swimmers.

Ben strolled down the Mossflower path, knowing full well that there was no real danger in these forests. They had been pacified a long time ago, and were thus safe to travel.

But one thing to remember, Ben told himself, these paths led from the outer reaches of the forests, and all met up to one place. A place of possible income, but also a place of reckoning with the past. Ben owed it to his friends to go and inform their beloved of what was going on.

Ben was headed to Redwall Abbey.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Mother Sara had been quiet as of late. Varrus had so far sensed nothing amiss, had not even guessed that she may have been speaking with Adisa, Vinicio, Foremole, and Conrad. If Varrus had known, then actions would have been placed immediately against this alliance. So thankfully, nothing had been sensed.

Adisa was once again being isolated, though Conrad refused to treat him any different from how he'd usually treat anyone. As Conrad had argued, he was known to be a traitor and also a defender of murderers. Adisa had protested that any sign of friendship would make them suspicious, but even he had to admit that Conrad was seen as the lowest of the low, as well as Adisa. There was little harm if Conrad wanted to be righteous about his principles.

But meanwhile, the murder of Slade had to be solved, publicly and quickly. The longer they stalled, the easier it would be for those to cover it up.

But it was hard. There were no witnesses they could use in a trial, nor was there any evidence. The body of Slade had been buried after the execution of Elfwin, and the evidence from the previous trial had been burned after it was deemed that it had served its purpose.

So what to do?

Foremole remembered that an old dog fox named Elial had escaped at the same time that the trial had begun. If they could find Elial, they'd find out something that they could use in court.

Vinicio had watched them burn the evidence, but there had not been any sign of the knives that had killed Arly. Where were they?

Conrad had also thought up an idea based on the fact that Elfwin had been abused while imprisoned. She had been forced into confessing somehow. What if someone was a witness to it? Was there anyone who would have been able to hear it?

Slade had given them the killer's identity. They had been shocked and saddened when they had heard of it, but they resolved to steel their nerve and prepare for the worst. They had to keep the killer within the Abbey.

But how to do all of this, they had wondered? They would need someone who could skilfully track and find an old wandering mercenary fox, and also be able to tail the killer without making it clear. Who could they turn to?

"" "" "" "" "" """" """ "" " "" " """

"Halt! Who goes there!" The guard shouted. Varrus had appointed Wullock the otter as a wall sentry to keep him occupied. It also allowed him to be excused from school and prayer. It was a great trade for the apathetic youth.

Ben looked up. Since when did Redwall ask that question?

"My name is Ben. I am a traveler wishing a place to rest my paws."

The otter peered down at the raccoon, "Very well, but I must ask you to surrender your club."

Ben's hackles bristled. This young rip was getting him angry, "My shillelagh will not leave my side, nor will it hurt anyone inside Redwall. This I give my word upon." He hoped that would appease the otter, because he was dangerously close to losing his temper. The warm day had made him very thirsty.

Wullock grinned to himself when he saw that the stranger was getting angry. He might get some sport out of this, but just as he was about to shout out, Lonol the Gatekeeper appeared, awoken from his nap by the exchange of words.

Lonol was an over sized dormouse, prone to long naps and a sharp tongue if cranky. He was still strong, though, and had resented Wullock's appointment. He saw it as an insult to himself and also a breaching of Redwall tradition.

The dormouse shouted angrily at the otter, "Oi! If it's only one creature, he's not gonna do us any harm, ye stoopid little bastard! Do your job properly or I'll complain to the Abbott!"

Wullock gnashed his teeth, but did not want to cause a scene. Lonol had a booming voice, and he would not hesitate to use it if the otter talked back. This would attract a crowd, and it would discredit him. He looked suspiciously at Ben, remembering Varrus' warnings to turn back as many visitors as he could, but if Lonol kept this up, it would not work.

The door was opened suddenly. Lonol would not wait for the otter's response, and he opened the door to the raccoon. He nodded gruffly at the bemused Ben, "Begging your pardon mate. Welcome to Redwall Abbey."

Ben nodded, relieved, and entered the Abbey. A few beasts stopped and stared at the strange animal who was fearsomely armed with his warclub. Ben secretly wagered that there would not be one person here who could recognize the word shillelagh. A few of the creatures began to follow the newcomer at a polite distance. They were curious to see what he would do. They seemed jumpy.

Ben went to find someone to guide him around. He had, surprisingly, never been here before. He had been through lands that were unheard of to these creatures, but had never been to such places as Redwall or Salamandastron.

The raccoon decided to go to the Abbott anyway. He had to tell him about the fight that Raga and Skipper and Jander were fighting. It would be bad news to give, but news he was meant to give.

He entered the Abbey, but to his surprise, a large badger walked up to him. Ben was himself almost as large as Thornback had been, but Thornback was a young badger not yet done growing. Sara towered over him, and he had to grip his shillelagh.

The badger, however, was not aggressive, though she looked wary, "Welcome to Redwall Abbey, stranger. I am Sara, Badger Mother of Redwall. Is there something you wish?"

Others had come up from behind the badger to look at the raccoon, even some children. Ben was suddenly looking at Sara, and realized that there was something familiar in that face. Had he seen her before?

Before Ben could answer, an infant called out, "Are you a badger?"

Ben looked down at the little mouse that had spoken, "No. I'm a raccoon.' the youngster frowned at the new word, 'we live mainly to the southwest, but we love to wander the land."

He felt more at ease now, and he looked at Sara, "I bring word to you of Raga, Warrior of Redwall."

The creatures looked at each other excitedly. Doubtless they had been wondering for a long time when their friends would be back.

Less than a half-hour, Ben stood in a large ring of listeners, including the Abbott, the Recorder of Redwall, and Mother Sara. He loved telling stories, but tried not to elaborate anything. He told them of how he and Thornback and Ebs met up with the Gousim and the Redwallers. He told them of the long journey to the north, of the ambush of the crows. Some in the crowd cheered when Ben talked of how Raga had led the counter charge that had driven the crows away.

Next Ben talked of the Highlands, and for the benefit of the children, made Taskill seem like an ugly old scarecrow-like hare. He talked of how Raga had strived to protect the innocent in the fights rather than take part, and of how Skipper and Jander had fought bravely against Taskill's hares. The Abbott, sensing the violent turn coming up, suggested the Dibbuns go and play outside.

When they were gone, Ben gave the gory details of the fights. He talked of how the four otters under Skipper died in the fight (Shane's end was elaborated, for the truth would open up so much that he did not want to talk about). Ben talked about Log a Log's death, standing side-by-side with Raga against an ambush, and the departure of the shrews. The raccoon did not want to talk about the King's Scroll, or much of his own story.

One youthful squirrel asked if the racoon had fought as well. Ben merely nodded, and was silent for a moment. They were doubtless imagining the dark shillelagh being wielded in his formidable paws.

Ben concluded his tale of how Skipper and Raga had asked Ben to go to Redwall and inform them of everything he knew. Jander had also sent his best regards, much to the chuckling of the Abbey elders, who missed the boisterous squirrel.

Varrus was very thoughtful on this information and asked sharp questions. What had happened to finding Judos and the sword of Martin the Warrior? Ben explained the vision that Raga had been given, and the Abbeydwellers seemed mollified. Others wondered why Martin would not want Judos and the sword to return to Redwall.

Ben sipped at October Ale, fresh and cool from the cellars. It tasted wonderful going down his throat, and he wished he had a nice lizard steak to go along with it. Of course, no luck getting it here.

Eventually, the admiring youngsters came back, and Ben, out of the fondness he had for children, asked them if they wanted to hear stories of how he had braved the fields of Issumela with the renowned hero Aleksandros. Abbott Varrus, seeing the connection in the battle's name, and the fact that Ben could not possibly have been with that hero, smiled and allowed the raccoon to entertain the youngsters. Just before he left, he noted how Ben skated over the details of battle, and spoke more of the adventure itself.

Most of the previous crowd dispersed as Ben entertained the youngsters, but Mother Sara stayed. She had noticed in Ben the mercenary side of him that he had only hinted at. He had spoken of battle calmly, as if he had seen death often in his life. He looked tough and lean, ready to do a hard job for the right price.

But for now, she let him speak of how Aleksandros had asked him, of all the gallant people in his army, for advice on how to get past the forces of Darrioss and capture the evil king himself. The Dibbuns eyes grew wide, for although they had no knowledge of these events (few did), they were ensnared by Ben's storytelling.

Eventually, Ben stopped, and his audience left him to play in the sun. Mother Sara seized her chance, and tapped the raccoon on the shoulder.

"Ben. I must speak with you" she said, and led him to the cellars.

As they entered the shadowy corridor that led to the cellars, Ben could hear another pair of footsteps behind them, but he decided not to look behind him.

They entered the cellars. A large hedgehog looked up in surprise, but nodded when he saw the three creatures. Ben still did not know who the third character was. He took the opportunity to look at who the person was.

An older mouse, dressed in the traditional habit of Redwall, had been quietly following them from a distance to ensure that he was not seen to be with them. His hood was up, but as Ben turned around, he removed it at once. It was one of the mice that had listened to his story of Raga and Skipper.

The mouse nodded respectfully at the raccoon, "I am Conrad, master Ben, and this hedgehog here is Vinicio. Do you recall a mole standing in the crowd?"

Ben shrugged. He had had scenes like this before, "A specific mole? There were several."

"He was wearing a brown jerkin, with a bronze belt buckle on his belt."

"Yeah, I remember him."

The mouse smiled at the use of Ben's 'yeah'. Clearly he was an educated mouse and proud of it. Ben let it go: there had been no insult of course.

"We have a story to tell you,' a low voice spoke from behind the raccoon. When Ben turned, he saw another creature, with the look of some kind of weasel, only different somehow.

Something clicked in Ben's mind, "A civet, right?"

The creature blinked in surprise, "You know my kind?"

Ben grinned at the creature, "We rare animals tend to pass each other once in a while. I met a civet once in the south. Someone wanted me to get rid of him, but I helped escape instead."

The civet's eyes flashed, and he nodded, "That was kind of you.' He stepped forward and offered a bow like Conrad, 'My name is Adisa."

Vinicio stepped forward, "We have a story to tell you, Ben, and it's as grim as yours."

They told him everything, from the murder of Slade, to when Ben had marched into Redwall. By the end of it Ben was grim faced at the thoughts in his head.

He hefted his shillelagh, "So what do you want of me?"

Mother Sara too was grim, but in a more pained way, as though all this was hurting her, "We need you to find a mercenary such as yourself. The old fox may know more information than us. It would do us well to bring him back."

Ben nodded, "It's going to be very hard, but I can try. What's his name?"

"Elial."

Ben's eyes widened, "You're joking!"

Adisa smiled, "You know him?"

"Sure I do! I've fought with him against sea rats and then against him when he tried to raid a town on the borders of his land. He's led a long life of a mercenary, I thought he was dead three seasons ago. Then I met him again."

"Do you think you can find him?"

"Well, last I checked he was looking for his daughter Iola, and last I heard, she was captured by the Hunan tribe in the lands south of Mossflower."


	29. Chapter 29

28

Ætharr watched as Ferric's corpse was burned on his funeral pyre. It was fitting that the great of Calador and a number of other clans were there to give their respects to the weasel. Ferric's widow had been inconsolable, and it broke Ætharr's heart to have to tell her. He didn't mind doing it for Ferric; he owed to the dead weasel.

He had almost forgotten that a new theign would have to be chosen. Likely they would have their own family, and so Ferric's family would be forced to leave. Ætharr assured her that she would have her own estate and enough wealth to raise her children on her own as she wished. If she remarried, then the wealth would remain hers and her husband's.

But right now Ætharr had to think of a replacement for Ferric. It would have to be someone of equal trust and value.

That person was, without a question, Ptolemy.

Ptolemy had been raised in Æthelly with Ætharr, Ædall, and Jinn. His family had lived on Gæruff's lands, and when his studies were done, he had returned, much to Ætharr's disappointment. He had liked Ptolemy and would have liked to have him in his most intimate circle of friends. Certainly he and Ptolemy wrote frequent letters, and they saw each other as often as they could.

When Ætharr had been banished, Ptolemy had joined Gæruff's fyrd, when he knew for sure that his theign would resist Ælfer's rule. Then, when the devastating attack upon Gæruff's lands, Ptolemy lost his brother in the massacre. He swiftly led his sisters and parents to Ulric, and begged to join his forces. Ulric brought him along when they routed the same force that had killed Gæruff, and Ptolemy made a name for himself not only as a warrior, but as a tactician.

It suited Ulric to send Ptolemy to Ætharr with the second batch of reinforcements. Ptolemy had not been made one of the officers, but had fought with Ætharr nevertheless. With the death of Aletorix, Ætharr had temporarily given command of his troops to Ptolemy during the fights to liberate Calador.

Now he appointed his friend as theign to replace Ferric.

Judos did not really know Ptolemy. He had barely been with the weasel, let alone spoken with him. He hoped Ptolemy could be trusted.

In the end, Ptolemy made the first steps to get acquainted with Judos. The weasel met him after the funeral of Ferric as they were leaving back for their theignships. Since Ferric's and Judos' lands were next to each other, Ptolemy and his entourage walked with Judos.

"I've heard how you met Ætharr.' the weasel began, 'I was thinking about reasons why an otter lines himself with a weasel."

Judos looked at him, stung by the thoughtfulness in his voice. He felt as though the weasel was mocking him.

Ptolemy noticed the look, "If I was going to insult you I would not do it in these circumstances."

Judos ignored that, "So why question my loyalty?"

"Who said anything about loyalty in question? I'm wondering why you, an otter, chooses to be most loyal to a weasel. Usually we would not meet in this fashion."

"True,' Judos allowed, 'and I don't really know why I've done all this. It's hard to explain."

"Then don't explain it to me. If you don't want to talk about it, then don't." Ptolemy did not pursue the subject, but respectfully changed the subject, "I grieve for Ferric."

"Me too,' said Judos, and he meant it. Ferric had been a kind weasel, and a good leader. Judos looked at Ptolemy. The weasel looked like he often had something on his mind, but the hard, muscular body also sported a number of scars.

"So I heard you were in the resistance with Gæruff and then Gyras,' Judos asked. He wanted to learn more about this interesting character.

"Aye I was. I've found that you can be taught everything about battle, but it never helps you for the real experience. You have no preparation against the bowel-loosening fear of your first fight, and that's where we truly grow up.

Judos knew exactly how that felt, and he nodded in agreement. He could somewhat connect to the weasel, for they both could talk of the feeling of their first battles. Ætharr and several others did not bring up the topic unless they were instructing youngsters. It was an experience that was held as something necessary, but meant to be forgotten.

Ptolemy turned out to be a very charismatic speaker with many topics to discuss. Judos learned a lot from the weasel in terms of history of the tribes. He was able to connect the events in the tribes' history to the history of Mossflower, and was surprised that some events happened near the same time.

Just as they were about to part ways to their homes, a runner came up behind them. One of Ptolemy's guards called his lord and Judos to the young messenger.

Judos recognized the weasel, "You're Agricola's eldest son aren't you? You're Antigonus."

Antigonus gave a bow, "Aye, lord, I am. My father sent me to tell you two that there will be a meeting tonight in secret. You must bring no one but the guards here." With the last sentence, he looked at the eight guards gathered around their lords.

Ptolemy frowned at Antigonus, "There is only one reason Ætharr would hold a secret meeting at this moment."

Antigonus shrugged, "I'm just the messenger." And with a final bow, he hurried off towards Horal's lands after accepting some provisions from Ptolemy.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

When Judos arrived at Æthelly and entered Ætharr's hall, there were only four others there. Aside from Ptolemy and Horal, there was Jinn and Ædall. Judos knew then what this meeting would be about.

Ætharr entered from the other entrance, his face grim with the subject he had to deal with. He nodded at the five friends sitting down, "You five I can trust. Four of you were my closest friends as pups. One of you has given up everything to fight for me and has now become a true Calador. That is why you are all here."

He stood with them, as they sat around, or leaned against the columns, "The creatures did not come from the Loptrio tribe. They may have paid them off, but I cannot attack them now. We are unprepared for that. But someone must have given these creatures refuge." He looked at Jinn, "Who?"

Jinn pulled out a sheet of paper and looked at it, "There's no chance it was Gyras or Ulric or Cynefrid. They were at the feast, and they fought as hard as the rest of us."

"That proves little. They could have pretended, not to mention the fact that they were all there,' Ædall interrupted.

Jinn shook his head, apathetic to the fact that he had been interrupted, "No, I don't think so. They've already given so much to our cause that it would be ridiculous to change their minds now."

Ptolemy waved his paw, "Go on."

Jinn continued, "It seems that Viggo is also innocent. He's made no sudden movements at all. Neither has Burg or Agricola."

Ætharr frowned at Viggo's name, but sighed with genuine relief when Jinn spoke of Burg and Agricola. Both were dear to his troubled heart, helping him hide in the swamp upon his father's death, and it would destroy him if someone so close as they would prove treacherous.

Jinn looked further down the list, "Keld has also shown no sign of treachury, though he did little to help you this past season."

Ætharr's eyes darkened, "Do you really think they haven't plotted against me?"

Jinn looked at the others, then looked back at his old friend, "They sided with Ælfer, but never openly fought against anyone."

Ætharr sighed, "And what of Vogel?" He spoke of Vogel as though he already knew the answer.

Jinn nodded, "Vogel's been acting odd, but merely in the alehouse."

Ætharr nodded. That could not be helped. He looked at Ptolemy, "You've been close to Æđelstan these past weeks. Any news?"

Ptolemy's face fell, "Aye. He's growing ever more loose in the tongue over you. He's been complaining that he's being ignored."

Ætharr frowned, "A person that sides with the opposite side should not expect the winning side to spoil him. I've not deprived him of anything."

Jinn looked at his list, "It seems as though he's made contact with a group sent by the Loptrio."

The atmosphere darkened profoundly. This was serious.

Judos wrapped his cloak over his shoulders. He felt cold, "What's the proof?"

Ædall did not look at the otter as he spoke, "The assassin we tortured said that Æđelstan had given him information on how to better get a chance at Ætharr's life."

Horal shuddered, "Surely he may be lying?"

Jinn sighed, "No. We interrogated several villages along the border, and the assassin seemed to have passed through Æđelstan's lands."

This was dark news indeed. If a border theign proved treacherous, it would become very dangerous.

"Æđelstan will have to face trial. We must be sure of this." Jinn said, and Ætharr nodded.

Ptolemy looked at the Ealdor, "That's the end of the list, apart from us."

The Ealdor's face nodded, "Do any of you have any suggestions?"

Judos was about to ask what he was talking about, but then Horal spoke up, "Keld was always close to Æđelstan. He's surrounded by enemies, nobody likes him. He'd likely help his friend."

The others nodded, except for Judos. He looked at them in turn, "But Jinn just said that Keld's done nothing has he not?"

Ætharr turned a baleful look upon the otter, "Judos, it's about time Keld was punished for siding with the murderer of my father."

And never, Judos reckoned later, had he ever been more shocked by Ætharr. It was the dark nature of a ruler given full reign. Absolute power had to be maintained by the Ealdor, and he would use absolute measures to keep his people safe, especially if it removed him of troublesome political enemies.

"Keld won't be able to be easily convicted in a trial." Ptolemy said, worriedly. He looked at Ætharr, "Perhaps Judos is right, and we could succeed in scaring Keld with the execution of Æđelstan."

Ætharr frowned darkly (Judos shuddered), and turned to Ædall, "What say you?"

His cousin shrugged, "It's difficult. We don't know if Æđelstan will be proven guilty, however much evidence we can find to support it. We would have to secure this in another matter."

Ætharr nodded, "Then go, Jinn. I will give word to Vogel that you, Keld, and Craterus will be going out for a hunt on his lands."

Jinn nodded grimly, inclined his head to his friend and wrapped a black cloak over his dark leather armour. He slipped out of the hall.

Judos looked at Ptolemy, "Who is Craterus?"

"Craterus is the son of Cynefrid's brother-in-law."

Judos' worst fears were confirmed.

He had conspired to murder an innocent creature on the pretense of being associated with a guilty one.

He was beginning to see why vermin were so hated by Redwallers.


	30. Chapter 30

29

Keld was found a week later, murdered while hunting in Vogel's territory. He had been hunting alone, armed only with a bow and two dozen arrows. He had been shot through the back of the head, and no tracks had been seen leaving or approaching his body. There were no suspects: No one had been near him for several hours, until a young farm lad had heard the scavenging birds, and had gone to investigate.

Keld had left no family, and had not been held in high regard even by his subjects. In the latter part of his life, he had distanced himself from those he knew, for reasons of his own.

Ætharr elected Craterus, who had ruthlessly searched for the assassin, theign of the province that looked outward to the Loptrio and Alcax tribes. Craterus, a rugged weasel with a brilliant military mind, would be ideal in his new position. He remained oblivious of Keld's actual killer to his dying day.

Judos was stunned by the murder. He had never liked Keld, but he would never have wished death upon him. He had committed no crime apart from choosing the wrong side. As far as was known, Keld had not acted for Ælfer in any way apart from not getting involved in the underground movement started by Ulric and Cynefrid.

But he was too busy condemning Æđelstan to death. The evidence had been found against the hapless theign. Even though Æđelstan had been granted access to a fair trial, and had mounted a rigorous defence, he could not deny that the assassin had stayed on his land, as had several of those who had attacked Æthelly's hall.

Eventually, his answers became more desperate, his appearance more broken. It became clear that he was lacking merit in his answers. The complete truth was not being given on his part, and the other theigns decreed him to be executed. Judos had questioned the fact that Æđelstan was himself guilty, but realized that it was true. They had found Loptrian gold hidden in his hall, and the killers' precense was confirmed.

Æđelstan was executed publicly, on the border of Calador, and his corpse was left to be picked over by the crows.

The theigns were shocked by these two deaths, but they were relieved that Craterus had replaced Keld. They were also glad that Æđelstan was replaced by one of his lieutenants, Derfel, for his services to assist those attacked by Millar raiders.

Judos was glad that it was over, but the deaths haunted him for a time. He would wake up in a cold sweat, and he was losing sleep because of these nightmares. He wondered how the others could live with the fact that they had murdered an innocent creature simply for political needs.

But it seemed that they went on with normal deeds. The initial shock of the deaths of two theigns faded away when Derfel and Craterus proved to be better theigns than any expected.

Judos decided to pay a visit to Ptolemy after about a week of the nightmares. If he was to be haunted by ghosts, he'd confront them.

He hastened from his home, and hurried across the countryside without an escort. He wanted to travel in private.

He had yet gotten used to all the lands in Calador. He found it maddeningly frustrating that it had taken him so long to know his own territory, and was now lost just a day outside of it.

He would have remained lost for a while if not for a farmer and his two sons heading the opposite direction on the road.

He mustered up his dignity, and asked in a cheerful voice, "Oi! Where's Ptolemy's Hall?"

The farmer pointed the way he came, "Just a few hours on this road. But mark you, there's a crossroad, and you have to take the right path."

Judos nodded, "Thank you!"

He did as was advised, and finally, he saw a large cluster of huts, farms, houses, and shops. On top of one of the hills was an enlarged building that was clearly Ptolemy's residence.

He walked up to the hall, only to be met with the guards, "Your name?"

"Judos, son of Judos, and theign of the province next to this one." Judos answered. He wondered why they had to ask him, an otter in Calador, who he was. He privately hoped that Ptolemy was here, for the weasel might be out in the province, organizing something or settling a dispute. Judos hoped that Ptolemy was home, for the weasel could likely be away on some errand or business in his province.

One of the guards walked into the hall to inform Ptolemy. At first, Judos was relieved that Ptolemy was here. Suddenly he felt as though he was turning cold. Now was the time for the business he had come for. He suddenly wondered what he would say.

The guard returned, "He's anxious to see you." He bowed Judos in. Judos smiled his thanks, a hard thing to do because of the knot his emotions were in, and he entered the hall.

Ptolemy sitting on a chair that seemed specially made for him, his head in his paw as he stared blankly. Was he thinking of what to say, just like Judos? It was strange how both were nervous of this business.

He looked up, and saw that Judos had come. He stood up immediately, and a wary smile came upon his face, "I'm glad you came, Judos."

Judos patted his sword, "You let me keep my weapon in the hall."

Ptolemy's facial expression did not change, "You did not come here to kill me."

Judos frowned, and he took a seat at one of the chairs lying empty, "An innocent creature was killed on my orders."

Ptolemy raised his eyebrows, "I would be insulted if I was denied the guilt of Keld's blood."

Judos knew it was light jest, and he detested it. How could he joke about this?

Ptolemy looked down at his foot paws, "I must admit, I prayed forgiveness for his death. But it had to be done. A desperate creature is ever unpredictable."

Judos shook his head. He was never taught this way, "You can't be serious!"

Ptolemy never lost patience, but he looked thoughtful in his expression, "I'm showing you the justification that you are so desperately seeking."

Judos looked up.

Ptolemy continued, "Ask yourself this; is it wrong to murder a creature for horrid crimes he has yet to commit?"

Judos was about to answer 'yes' with a vigour in his voice, but then paused. He wondered about such villains as Cluny the Scourge, Ferahgo the Assassin, and Tsarmina the wildcat. He wondered if they had been killed before they had done so much death and destruction. What would you say to the families whose lives had been destroyed by such creatures? It was terribly hard to answer.

Ptolemy did not gloat. That was something Judos liked about him: he could be smart without humiliating the creatures he spoke to. Like the best sort of advisor. Judos was seeing more and more why Ptolemy was held in such regard.

Judos stood up, consumed in his confusion. Ptolemy stood up as well, "Shall I give you some food? You must have left in a hurry this morning to get here."

Judos wanted to refuse, but his stomach was growling. He would love to have a large meal for the journey back. Ptolemy obliged willingly, and a servant left with orders to prepare a good lunch.

After the meal, Ptolemy volunteered to walk Judos to the borders of their respective lands, with an escort of about ten guards. Ptolemy bid the guards walk out of hearing distance, so he could continue to speak to Judos.

"Listen, Judos. In Calador, we long ago learned that we had to do what is necessary to survive, and no one has learned that message better than the Ealdor of the country, or his theigns. But we have principles. Remember Ætharr as you know him. He will always do what he feels is best for Calador."

Judos felt reassured by Ptolemy. He was starting to really like this friend of Ætharr's.

By the time he saw his hall again, it was already nightfall.

He entered the room. One of the servants hurried up with a candle in her hand, "Lord Judos! You should have told us you'd be out! We were worried."

Judos smiled at the thought that he had been missed. He began to feel like he was home, "Not to worry, Selma. I was merely speaking with Ptolemy."

Selma shrugged, "If you had asked, we could have given you the quickest route back, instead of the main road."

Judos paused, and decided not to invite further inquiry.

"" "" " "" """ "" """ """ " "" "" "

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, Judos made a tour of his province, ensuring everything was well. Apart from settling a dispute over land inheritance, it was a very uneventful day.

He had a few hours left before nightfall and he decided to go visit Ætharr. He wanted to see Rosheen and the children again.

When he arrived, Rosheen welcomed him in, "Ah, Judos! It's a pleasure to have you over again. Things have been very quiet as of late."

Judos smiled, "How are the children?"

"Oh they're growing up just fine, and most are quite easy going to sleep. Ædron, though, he's a wailing tyke, so he is."

Judos raised an eyebrow, "Is he?"

Rosheen shrugged, "Well at least he doesn't wake the others. Funny about Ædelmær, he only wakes up when his father has another nightmare."

So Ætharr was suffering too, Judos thought with relief. But he was curious, "Ædelmær wakes up with Ætharr?"

Rosheen smiled, "And I wake up whenever one of them does. It's all part of being a parent, my father says."

She still looked young, Judos thought, looking at her. He had seen girls who lost their beauty with parenthood. There were others who retained their looks, and then there were those whose pregnancy enhanced their beauty. Rosheen was one of the latter.

As they were talking in the hall, Ætharr walked in from a weary day of administration. He was not surprised that Judos was here (he must have spoken with Ptolemy), and he walked towards his wife.

"Rosheen," he said as though he was still mesmerized by her name. Judos could see his love for her in his eyes, and he felt happy that the two of them were so in love with each other. Their children would surely be spoiled doubly by their doting parents, and the thought of it almost made him laugh.

Ætharr suddenly turned to Judos, "Selma told me you were coming to see me." He sounded tired, but his eyes were alert as ever. There was no hostility in his voice: he was merely explaining his lack of surprise.

Judos nodded, "Aye."

"As protector of my children, it is necessary to tell you this."

Judos and Rosheen looked at each other. What was this?

"My sons will undergo a tradition that the all sons of the hierarchy must complete. It is one of necessity, so that they grow up to be proper Calador weasels,' he turned to Rosheen, 'The Falcarragh have a similar one do they not?"

Rosheen, who had been turning pale with every word he had spoken, answered, "Aye, an' never have I seen my brothers in such hysteria. When were you thinking of sending them, Ætharr?"

"I intend them to begin at the age that I was taken."

Rosheen shuddered, "They have no idea what they'll be put through."

Just as she spoke that, Ædall came into the hall, "Ætharr, we have someone here asking for you."

Ætharr looked up, "Who?"

Ædall shrugged. His cousin frowned at the lack of information, "Well, are they a weasel? A ferret?"

"Try 'raccoon', my lord." an amused but respectful voice spoke out.

The two weasels and otter stared at the strange creature that entered the hall, carrying a large wooden club that was heavily notched. His eyes were bright, face pointed, and a black mask-like stripe covering his upper face.

"My name is Ben, and I am looking for Iola, daughter of Elial."


	31. Chapter 31

30

Ætharr looked at Ben, "You've come to the right place. She died here a few seasons ago."

Ben nodded, "That's what I heard. But my concern is for Elial, the father. I'm looking for him."

Ædall perked up, "You're looking for Elial? Why?"

Ben looked at the large weasel, "Us mercenaries fight for and against each other all the time. Right now is the case of the latter."

Ætharr frowned, "I thought Elial was dead. That's what we were told." He was starting to feel nervous of this raccoon.

Ben smiled, "No no, I've picked up a trail that he headed this way to the vermin lands. Apparently, he went to the Hunan lands first, then Kazahley steered him in your direction. I don't know what happened after that."

Ætharr looked thoughtful, "When did Kazahley see Elial?"

Ben thought about it, "I was there three days ago, and apparently I missed Elial by about four days. He would have been much faster, of course, but age tells on your speed."

Judos put in, "So then you might be ahead of him."

"Aye, maybe. Or he came by without you noticing."

Ædall, after a second, called in the two guards, "Did either of you see an old fox named Elial come by? You two were wall guards this past fortnight, so you would see all the visitors."

The guards tried to remember anyone of the fox's appearance, before one of them exclaimed, "Oh aye! I remember now! He called up and asked if Iola was here. I told him she was dead. He came in for some food, then he said he'd go back to his home on the coast. That was just yesterday."

Ben nodded, "That's where I'm headed then."

He was about to leave, when Rosheen suddenly called out to him, "Hang on, you said your name was Ben?"

Ben turned around, "I was initially named Benjamen, but I'd prefer Ben."

Rosheen shook her head in surprise, "You fought for my father five seasons ago when he attacked the Alcax tribe! He used to tell us about how this strange animal slew fifteen rats with his shillelagh."

Ben smiled. Only the Falcarragh tribe would know what a shillelagh was, "You're the daughter of Tiarnan? How is he?"

Rosheen smiled back, "He's as fit as ever."

"Good. It was my first big battle, and he was like a father to me."

Rosheen had another question, "You're still a mercenary then?"

Ben nodded, "But right now I'm being paid to find Elial and take him alive back to Redwall."

"Alive?"

"Aye. It seems he knows things that some of the Redwallers are very interested in."

Ætharr nodded, "Fair enough, but come back as soon as you can. I'd welcome any fighter who's praised by Tiarnan."

Ben gave a bob of the head in respect, and left.

He knew he was less than a day behind Elial, and that the old fox was heading back to his familiar ground. If he got there, he'd have friends who could protect him. So it was necessary for Ben to catch him before that.

There were two things to Ben's advantage. One, he'd be able to overcome Elial easily once he caught up to him, and two, Elial didn't know he was being followed. Ben could use that advantage to move quickly.

Ben had grown quite used to his home in the Highlands, but since then he'd exercised vigorously to get back into the lean shape he'd been in before. He was very young, and he had quickly returned to his regular fitness.

The day was a warm one, but a breeze kept it from being unbearable. Ben took a swig of water several times during the day and tried to think of something else.

He sang to himself as he headed along the path. He knew he should be running to close the gap between himself and Elial, but he had a feeling that there was no need for hurry. He had skirted along the remaining vermin lands, and was now headed toward the western coastline.

Before long, he had gotten out of the forest, and came across a small village. The village was surrounded by farmland or meadows. The houses were built unevenly, but along a road that was big enough for two carts to pass each other. The village seemed to have a pub or two, an inn, a meeting hall, and some shops. It made Ben painfully think of the Highlands, but only for a split second.

He continued toward the town, quickening his pace as the hope grew in him that his quarry had stopped here for the night. The sun was beginning to set, and the old fox might want to sleep in comfort.

He headed for the nearest pub, which had a sign of a squirrel's tail and a pint. Maybe someone could tell him where to look.

The pub was half-full of a variety of creatures. Ben did a double take when he saw what seemed to be another raccoon, but was really a badger who was trying to stay in the shadows.

Ben headed to the counter, "I'm looking for an old fox, by the name of Elial."

The barmaid, a young squirrel, shook her head, "No, nobody by that name. But we do have an elderly gentleman named Thadeus."

Ben raised an eyebrow, "Fox?"

The barmaid nodded.

Ben smiled. It was a good idea to use a fake name, even when in safety. He wondered why he had never done that before.

He gave his most charming smile at the barmaid, "I'm sure my memory's mistaken. I do believe that his name was Thadeus. Could you give him a message to meet me down here? Tell him it's Benjamen from the coast."

The barmaid nodded and headed upstairs. Ben sat down and ordered a pint of ale from the landlord, along with a side of potatoes.

He had just recieved his order, when an ancient-looking paw picked up one of the potatoes from the plate.

Ben looked up, to see the old fox, Elial, the creature he remembered from the past and the creature he was to capture. Such was the life of a mercenary.

"You knew I'd come down." Elial spoke. He sounded old, tired, resigned. However, he had a little sad smile on his face, as though he was amused at what fate had given him.

"Well I can't see you climbing out of the window at your age. You'd be in danger of breaking something." Ben suddenly felt sad at having to do this, but tried to maintain a neutral stance.

Elial sighed, and sat down, "You even took a table by the door so that I couldn't sneak past. I taught you well, young friend."

Ben smiled thinly, "Aye you taught me many things, and they've all saved my life at different times in my life."

Elial ordered a glass of the landlord's finest wine, then looked at the raccoon again, "So how long have you been following me?"

Ben thought about it, "Two weeks or so."

Elial clucked his tongue, "If I had been the fox I was so long ago, you'd never have caught me."

Ben shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. That's not the concern for what I have to do now."

Elial smiled again, "You'd kill an old mentor in cold blood?"

Ben looked hard at the fox, but could not keep emotion out of his voice, "You once told me that being a mercenary is business. It's not personal, it's strictly business. Well I've made the mistake of breaking that rule before, and I won't do it again."

Elial looked thoughtful, "You've found a lover?"

"No, a friend. Badger younger than me, by the name of Thornback. He's up in the Highlands battling it out with Taskill, you know Taskill right?"

Elial nodded, "I've heard of him, yes. Your friend is a bold one, to take on that hare. He puts most vermin to shame with his cruelty."

"Well I was hired by Taskill to kill Thornback. Instead, I saved his life. But it cost me the death of another, and also Thornback was tortured. So his friends never forgave me and I chose to leave."

Elial nodded, "I'm sorry." He patted Ben's paw, a truly sympathetic look on his face.

Ben smiled to avoid feeling choked up. He was usually not this emotional, "Old fool, I've come to take you and you can still feel sympathy."

Elial shrugged, "I'm an old creature. I've had many children in my life, only a few I was close with. My favourite son is dead..."

"I grieved for you when I heard about that,' Ben interrupted.

Elial nodded his thanks, "Iola was another one of them, and now she's dead. You remember Iola?"

Ben smiled, "She was gifted with prophecies right?"

Elial nodded, "Well she's dead, and now I've precious few left in the world I genuinely give a damn about. You happen to be one of them.' he inclined his head, 'I must say, even when you fought against me back at the raid, I gave my troops strict orders to take you alive."

Ben had begun to recover his pose, and now wondered about something, "You're trying to tell me something."

Elial paused.

Ben continued, "You want me to remember the personal stuff and spare your life."

Elial did nothing.

Ben smiled, content that he could say this, "I'm to take you alive, at all costs." He remembered the desperation on the faces of Adisa and Conrad, urging him to take this old fox alive.

Elial frowned, "They want to torture me?"

Ben shrugged, "Maybe. But it depends on who 'they' are, doesn't it?"

Elial started to think, but then gave up with a rueful grin, "I've made so many enemies in my life that I couldn't possibly imagine who I've offended this much."

Ben spoke one word, "Redwall."

Elial started, then looked hard at the raccoon, "How much did the Abbott tell you?"

"He told me nothing. And he doesn't even know I'm doing this. A bunch of creatures who want to accuse him of murder want you to confirm their accusations."

Elial thought about this, amazed, "So what goes around comes around."

"You talking about yourself?"

"No. The Abbott."

"You mean he really did murder that hedgehog?"

"No, but he paid me and two friends of mine to do it. You remember Glunkie and Boley?"

"Those two idiots?" Ben laughed.

"They helped me kill the hedgehog, and in return, I slew them both."

Ben paused, "To keep the secret."

"A veteran mercenary never even has to say that to justify himself."

Ben sighed, "You and I, we have a lot to justify, you much more than me, though. And I gotta say, I don't know if we can justify anything we've done."

Elial thought about it, "One might say that the end justifies the means."

Ben grinned, "Isn't that what the Abbott believes? Look where he's going to be soon."

Elial nodded, leering, "That cruel water hound will soon get his punishment."

Ben was suddenly curious, "You know more than anyone knows, don't you?"

Elial smiled a dangerous smile that few had seen and lived to talk about, "My son told me a great deal in the older days. He treated me like a priest, he did. That was how he could live the way he did."

That spurred another question from Ben, "So why did he tell Ætharr that you were dead?"

Elial laughed, "My son Coldbane never wished harm upon me."


	32. Chapter 32

31

Adisa sneaked past the snoring Lonol, applied oil to the hinges of the side gate, hiding in the shadows to hide from Wullock, and slipped out of Redwall.

He was going out on the urging of Mother Sara, who had received a message from Ben, but a message so subtle that she had almost missed it.

She had seen it while shepherding the Dibbuns across the Abbey grounds to lunch. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something stand out against the blue sky. Turning to look, she saw it was already gone.

Sara had turned back to the Dibbuns, and was just about to close the door behind her, when she saw more movement. Looking quickly, she saw it was a magpie.

Sara had frowned in surprise. A magpie? No magpie had been in this part of Redwall since General Ironbeak had attacked. What was this? But then, looking at the black and white bands on the bird, she thought of the black band of fur covering a raccoon's eyes, and the white outlining of those spots.

Ben!

Mother Sara looked to see if anyone saw her, and waved at the bird. The bird, having far better vision than her, saw her wave and began to fly to the north.

This was all the signal she needed. She contacted Conrad in secret, who in turn informed Adisa of what he had to do.

Now it was the dark civet, who was coincidentally coloured with the same shades as Ben, that crept north through the forest.

Eventually, he saw a little light that was barely to be seen. He knew it was a fire, and that it was most likely Ben and Elial. Adisa smiled as he moved forward quietly towards the meagre flame.

Just as he was about to enter the circle of light, a paw grabbed Adisa from behind and shoved him forward near the flames.

Adisa was about to react when he heard something flying through the air. Something hard smashed into the soft earth next to Adisa's neck. The civet shuddered, knowing he was close to death.

He looked at the object and saw it was a shillelagh.

"You can get up now, Adisa." Ben nodded respectfully at the civet, and offered a paw to help him up.

Adisa bore no grudge. He was glad that Ben took measures against being caught unawares. But he was anxious for the results.

Ben indicated the spit over the fire, sat down, and tore at a kind of meat that was roasting over the small fire. Adisa recognized it as a kind of lizard, for he had a similar appetite as the raccoon. The civet helped himself to a portion and tucked in gratefully. To Adisa's delight, he saw the old fox sitting silently by the fire, sipping at a small flask.

Between mouthfuls, the raccoon asked, "Who saw my message?"

The civet looked up, "Mother Sara.' Suddenly, Adisa was curious, "What did you do with the magpie?"

Ben grinned, "Gave him a portion of this lizard, and he's off back home now. I imagine he'll be there by tomorrow."

Adisa bowed his head to Ben, "Thank you for finding the fox."

Ben shrugged, and looked at the fox, "He won't resist, as long as he's guaranteed protection and safety, along with a quiet release after he's no longer necessary."

Adisa was impressed at how Ben had brought the fox back, "He's scared of you?"

Ben smiled, "No. I've paid him to do this. With my reward."

Adisa was surprised, "But we were to allow you to decide what your price was once you'd completed the task."

Ben shrugged, "Fine. Give him what he needs, and count that as my reward."

Adisa did not know what to say, except, "You have my word."

The fox grinned, "I'll hold you to it."

Ben yawned, and got up, gathering his belongings, "Keep the meat. It's the only good meat you'll ever get if you intend to stay in Redwall." He started to leave.

Adisa could not understand this strange creature. He stood up, "You are a strange creature to be a mercenary."

Ben half-turned, smiling, "No. I'm just grateful to an old friend of mine."

Adisa looked at the fox, and back to the raccoon, "So where will you go now?"

Ben shrugged, "Where will you go after Redwall's business is done with?"

Adisa had no answer for that. He didn't know what he would do when his justice had been done.

Ben grinned, and suddenly spoke out in a different voice, as if he was quoting someone else,

"We have assembled inside,  
This ancient and insane theater  
To propagate our lust for life,  
And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets."

With that, he turned and left, never to see Redwall again for the rest of his days. Somehow, Ben seemed to know that fact the moment he handed Elial over to the storm that was about to sweep the Abbey.

"" "" "" """ """ " "" "" "" "" "" "" """

Adisa made sure that none saw either him or Elial enter the Abbey. Vinicio, who was waiting for them both, had a small room open for the old fox. Here he would remain in hiding until the trial that they would call for against Varrus.

Elial smiled, "As long as I get a roast bird a week, then I'll keep quiet."

Adisa and Vinicio shrugged to each other. That was easy to obtain. Adisa had been expecting a morsel of meat every day. But this fox seemed to understand that it would give the game away if they were suddenly going out to hunt for food every day. Once a week was subtle enough for them. Plus, Elial would have access to the brewery, and that was something he had been surprised by.

Adisa was weary, and went back up to his room to sleep as much as he could before morning.

"" "" " "" "" "" """ "" "

Varrus noticed that Adisa looked awful the next morning. He seemed to have had little sleep the past night. It was easy to tell when they were at breakfast. He ate very slowly, and then it was very little.

Varrus wondered if the civet was suffering from nightmares. He himself had not had a nightmare in the past week, which was a welcome relief. He could not stand these looks into the past with himself and Slade.

Slade. Even thinking that name began a triggered reaction through his mind.

_He watched as the creatures pounded past him. They were intent on getting this job done, because it would finally end the plague of heresy and primitivity taking over the best land in the territory._

_He had no need to run: he was content to gloat at his work. With his deeds, he had set the path of purification, and would be remembered as a great hero who did what he could for the true faith._

_Slade stood beside him, leering at what was happening. He would never have thought of anything like this. The squirrel was a loose cannon that he could use effectively as a deadly weapon against these barbarians. Not only that, his ruthlessness would be ably used in the negotiations._

_"It has finally begun!" The squirrel spoke with much relish in his voice, and his eyes glowed. Slade sometimes seemed to love the sight of blood and death, like it stimulated him and filled him with energy. It was this quality alone that made him wonder if Slade was entirely pure of heart. However, Slade had been essential in the operation.  
_

_But he smiled at his friend, "Indeed it has. But we must ensure that it all goes to plan. Otherwise we shall never succeed in ridding these vermin from what was once our land."_

_They went in to organize the eager mob, to ensure that it all went to plan._

_As they entered the settlements, they saw the effects of their plan. It was a pleasing sight to the two of them that this should be successful. There was virtually no need to defeat the opposition. They had been taken completely by surprise, and now their fate was to be decided by the rightful owners of the good land._

_He himself was bereft of guilt as he stood beside his good friend Slade. This was good land, held by heathens. He and his people would give their thanks to God for guiding them to their rightful lands. They would honour him for his success, build monuments to his glory. It was the only justification that he needed, as far as anyone else was concerned..._

Varrus still shuddered as he returned to the present. Old Brother Gores had just taken the youngsters out to pick berries. Varrus watched Gores as he left. While incredibly fond of children, Gores was a conservative fundamentalist who had proven incredibly useful in the persecution of Elfwin. Gores would prove useful against Adisa soon enough.

Varrus wondered how Adisa could be disposed of. The civet had always been at prayers, and there was no record of any complaints. Personally, Varrus felt that there was some kind of agreement going on under his nose. How else could a pagan so quickly cleave to the true faith? It was very suspicious.

Varrus decided to find out just what Adisa did all these days. He would get Verso and his friends to spy on Adisa. It would do them well to vent out their grief and rage against one that they had grown to hate. Varrus used them as easily as he used Brother Gores.

He looked over to Conrad. That mouse must surely be behind it, if anyone. But it was difficult to target Conrad just yet. Despite his fall from favour due to to his defence of Elfwin, Conrad was still a tough target. He was a brilliant speaker and would be able to call upon the fact that he had been in the Abbey for most of his life. He had been a good and faithful brother to the Abbey. If he could be associated to Adisa's fall, then it would be easier.

But how was Adisa to fall? What could be proven about him that would have him removed from the Abbey? Varrus had to think about it and quickly.


	33. Chapter 33

32

Judos, already shaken by the murder of Keld, was incredibly bemused at what Ætharr and Rosheen told him after Ben's departure.

An old training method in Calador, one that was seen as the reason the soldiers of Calador were so tough, was performed at a very young age. The youth were taken away from their parents, forcibly, and taught how to live in the wilderness. It was not only useful on a physical sense, for it provided much exercise and experience, but on a mental sense, it taught them independence and skills they could use if they were lost in the wild away from their commanders or companions.

Judos, used to a family-like upbringing in Redwall, could not fathom how parents could force that upon their children at such a tender age. Of course, the otter had learned by now not to bother with that line of argument. Calador had become so powerful because of this system, and tradition was something that Ætharr valued greatly. It was what had guided him through life and was what he would teach to his children.

"When will they be due to go?" Judos asked instead.

Ætharr thought about it, "I'd say in about a season and a half. They should be ready by then."

There was something odd in his voice, Judos noticed. It was the same tone in Rosheen's voice: that of a parent that does what is necessary over what is preferred. It hurt Ætharr to think about it, perhaps as much as Rosheen, but he would never admit to it.

Judos wondered just how far back this tradition extended. So two days after speaking to Ætharr and Rosheen, he once again made the journey to see Ptolemy. Of course, the otter made sure to take the short cut this time.

When he arrived at Ptolemy's hall, the weasel was standing outside, speaking with a group of farmers. Judos decided to wait for Ptolemy to finish his discussion, and he contented himself to explore the village that surrounded the hall.

It was a village that Judos could almost recognize as his own. There were pathways cut out of the vegetation, and the lines of earth and gravel stood out alongside the green grass. Hovels of several different sizes were built along the streets, with a few outliers scattered across Judos' vision. There were very few adults in sight, so Judos surmised they must be in the fields. There were several children playing together, and that made Judos think of what Ætharr had talked to him about.

Turning around, he saw that Ptolemy was finished speaking with the farmers, and was about to head inside. Judos called out his name, and the weasel turned.

Ptolemy smiled politely, "Something the matter?"

Judos returned the smile, "I'm looking into the history of Calador, and I was wondering if I could borrow any writings from your archives? My own are sadly depleted."

Ptolemy nodded sympathetically, "Yes, Eadwig never cared for the written word. But he knew enough to be a theign." Theigns were supposed to be literate, but that didn't mean that they were good at writing.

Judos and Ptolemy headed towards a larger building than those surrounding it, and it looked much more elegant as well. Clearly the archives were a special concern to Ptolemy, and he had ensured that the writings were easily accessible.

Inside, there was a comfortable feeling about it that made Judos think of the Redwall scriptures and the old room meant for Abbey Recorders. He and Mellor had sometimes sneaked in there to hide from Mother Sara or another disciplinarian. Thinking of Mellor, and his tragic murder, Judos felt a stab of pain as though an old wound had suddenly flared up.

Ptolemy showed him around, pleased to be able to give Judos a view of the knowledge he had acquired. Judos was impressed, but not bowled over. He had never thought vermin kept such accounts, but these writings were nothing compared to the amount of history recorded in Redwall Abbey.

Ptolemy selected a scroll with a calm certainty and familiarity, and opened it to read. He smiled in triumph and handed it to Judos, "This is an account of the very first practice of sending the sons off into the wild. The proper term for it is called the Foremost Training."

Judos was astonished, "I didn't know Ætharr told you about my concerns."

Ptolemy smiled, "He didn't mention anything of the sort. I just assumed you'd come here and ask about it."

"But what tipped you off to it?' Judos wanted to know.

"Everyone knows about it. It's common known fact when the foremost training begins. As always, it takes place in late summer and early autumn. You can read all about it if you wish."

Judos did just that. After thanking Ptolemy and arranging for a number of scrolls to be taken out of the archives, Judos took them to his own hall, and read over parts of Calador's history. It was a compelling one, filled with accounts of battles that would have made Martin the Warrior blush. It was a bloody history, no doubt: it was no wonder that such extremem measures were used by the Calador creatures. Judos noted that while almost nine tenths of Calador children took part in these expeditions, only about two thirds actually continued army training. The others became artists, craftsmen, or became priests that would travel the land and give blessings to the Gods on holidays.

Judos decided that he would copy these accounts and build his own archive. But just as he was thinking of that, it was well past midnight, and his candle had dimmed almost to nothing, and he collapsed in weariness over the table.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" " "" "" """ "" "" "" "

"My lord? Are you alright, sir?"

It was Selma. Judos shook his head to wake himself up, "Morning, Selma."

"Good afternoon to you too, lord,' Selma answered, amused.

She looked at the papers on the table, "History of Calador?"

Judos nodded, "I want someone to copy these out onto fresh scrolls. It's about time I looked into a more thorough education around here."

Selma nodded, "I'll go find the scribe." She turned to leave.

"Wait a second!' Judos called. Selma turned around, 'Selma, I'll need someone else to come in here. There's a second job I need to have done."

Selma nodded, and left.

An hour later, Judos was pacing up and down the floor of his hall, reciting passages of Mossflower history that he had memorized as a child. The scribe, whose name was Æronaght, wrote down the words Judos spoke out with calm concentration. All the while, the loyal servant Selma copied out the scrolls from Ptolemy's archives and organized the new papers accordingly.

This project took the greater part of three weeks, but it encompassed the entire rebuilding of the archives on Eadwig's old land and establishing a better provincial education system. Judos put as much time into it as he could, struggling to remember as much as he could from the history of Mossflower. He then went through the length of his estate, seeing where the schools were and where new ones should be built. After interrogating the instructors about what they knew and taught, Judos made a list of those who would stay as competent teachers, and who would need a re-education.

Selma in particular was interested in the history of Martin the Warrior, and when Judos spoke hesitantly about his clash with vermin and tried to avoid those points of the story, she would tell him to leave nothing out. With shining eyes, she took criticism of her kind without the slightest offence. It seemed that among these weasels, if they weren't Calador, they weren't one of them, with only a few exceptions.

Judos liked Selma. She was dedicated to her work, and seemed genuine in her concern for him. She was always there with a word of advice, and during the first few days of becoming a theign, she was always there to help him out. Judos loved spending time with her, each swapping stories about their histories. He learned much about the Foremost Training (and other traditions of the Calador clan) and she learned all about the legends of Redwall, Salamandastron, and Martin the Warrior.

Soon, it was Selma who recorded Judos as he talked, and in turn, several other scribes made copies of the stories and histories. Judos arranged much of the budget to be paid from his own wealth, and saw to it that the libraries were built to his original design.

Judos and Selma worked well together, so it would be until midnight before one of them realized how late it was, and then they would organize the pages, clean up, and go to their sleeping chambers. But during the interviews, Judos would narrate out loud and notice, out of the corner of his eye, Selma looking at him with a strange emotion in her eyes.

During the first few days, Judos couldn't figure it out, but then noticed that it was a kind of sadness. Judos wondered what caused her to look like that, and when the answer came upon him, he felt a terrible ache in his heart. When he thought about it himself, he realized he loved her. She was highly intelligent, considering, and loyal, and she was also a weasel.

He dared not raise the subject of this unusual attraction to her, perhaps out of fear that it was not what it seemed. He remained composed, and tried to stay relaxed. Selma seemed to notice though, for one day, she put the quill down and looked at him. In mid-narration, his last words mumbled into nothingness. He merely returned her gaze diffidently. She spoke first, "Judos things could have been different."

Judos felt bitter. He wished things had been different. He wished Selma had been an otter, or that he had been born a weasel. Never before had Judos lamented the fact that he was an otter. It was also the first time he wished he could have been a vermin of any kind.

Then he broke from his thoughts to look at Selma again. She still had the same sad look on her face as she thought of a love that was not to be, but then a little star of hope twinkled inside her as she mutely gave Judos her message.

Judos recieved it with a realization. They may not be able to love each other the way that they could have done while being the same species, but Judos suddenly felt, as he thought of the alternative relationship, that it wouldn't hurt their relationship in the slightest.

Gaining a lifelong friend, Judos was nevertheless slightly pained. It was the first time that being the only otter in a tribe of weasels truly hurt him. He wondered if everything came with a price. Martin the Warrior had lost the love of his life, Lady Cregga Rose Eyes had lost her eyesight, the Taggerung had lost his father... It seemed to Judos that no person could be too great to avoid a terrible cost.

As he came to this conclusion, Judos wondered; what would be Ætharr's bane, and would he overcome it?


	34. Chapter 34

33

A silence hung over Salamandastron as the hares from all over the mountain were unsure of what to do.

It had started when Oakfur had collapsed at his forge early in the morning. The old badger had never broken his love of being a blacksmith, and he would spend a part of each day hammering away on his anvil.

The forge could be heard from outside, and one could always count on the sound of clanging as the hammer strikes the metal. It almost always ended at the same time of day every day.

But this day had been different, and it had fallen to the young Leaflock to be the one to discover the horrific scene. The leveret had been walking past the room that led to the forge, when the clanging stopped suddenly. Leaflock almost walked along past it, but something told him that something was wrong.

Pausing, the young hare raised his ear towards the closed door, listening anxiously for the resumption of the hammer striking the anvil. He even braced himself to continue on his way once he was reassured of the familiar sound of a Badger Lord at his passion.

Ten seconds went by, and the sound did not resume. Another ten seconds went by, yet still there was no sound for the hare hear. Leaflock grew agitated, as seconds continued to wear on without any return of sound.

But then he heard it. The reason he hadn't heard it before was likely because he had not been listening for it and had focused his ears solely for the clang of metal on metal. At first Leaflock had not been able to recognize what the sound was, but when he did, it was one of the most horrific sounds he had ever heard.

It was the sound of an animal in the worst pain. And there was only one animal in that room who could make that sound.

Oakfur.

Like a little bunny running from a fox, Leaflock fled the scene, terror giving him wings as he rushed for help. Anyone who could undo what had been done, Leaflock didn't care who it was.

The first person he ran into was Major Jackers, heading down to lunch. The hare was sobbing and gasping the story out, and by the end of it, Jackers had turned a pale grey in the face.

Five minutes later, Korari was leading a group of hares towards his father's forge. The young badger didn't bother to open the door properly, but instead smashed forwards with his shoulder. He ran towards the great anvil, where his father grovelled on the ground, unable to get up.

It sickened those to see the sight. Oakfur had been holding a glowing red piece of metal while wearing a thick glove, while he hammered upon the other end of it with the large hammer he had always wielded effortlessly. However, Oakfur had never realized what it meant to grow old and had made no precautions. The best guess one could think up was that the badger had put too much of his weight onto the metal, perhaps out of fatigue. The metal must have slipped, causing the Badger Lord to lose his balance. He had fallen forward, missing the anvil, but due to the fact that the metal had still been in his paw, he had fallen forward and struck his legs with the metal.

The result was devastating. Horrendous burn marks had appeared on the Badger Lord's legs, and it was possible to smell burning flesh when standing close to Oakfur. Some hares had to leave the scene due to the horror and nauseating feeling of the place.

Those who stayed carried their Lord to the infirmary in the mountain. The hare physicians began work immediately, but even as they began work upon the burns he had recieved, the doctors knew that there was no hope for Oakfur to keep his legs without getting the dreaded gangrene that always followed the decay of body tissues.

No one seemed to want to tell Korari the painful truth of what had happened, and what would result from that incident. Korari, for his part, never asked: he seemed to understand that his father's days had been numbered even narrower than before. The old lord would soon become encrypted in a monumental tomb somewhere deep in the mountain.

Korari didn't know what to say or do. He felt completely helpless as he stared at his now-unconscious father. Would he wake up one last time, or was it the beginning of the end? There was little telling yet.

Suddenly a cold voice boomed out, "Let me pass! Let me through!"

Who else could it be, Korari thought angrily. He immediately felt guilty for that thought: he had no right to judge Roaveen when he was in the same situation as Korari himself was.

The older brother certainly looked distressed. He looked grim and angry as he stared at his senseless father on the bed, "How much longer does he have?"

Several of the hares started at Roaveen's bluntness, Korari most of all.

The chief of the physicians spoke timidly, "At most, sire, a season." He was looking at Roaveen with a faint sense of curiosity at Roaveen's question. Was it possible that Roaveen simply could see the extent of the injuries more than the others crowding the Badger Lord?

Roaveen nodded slowly, and he stormed away. Korari watched him leave and wondered to himself when he would find tears for his father's imminent death. Would he only realize it once his father died? Or was he simply letting old wounds fester inside of him and prevent him from lamenting the loss of his father?

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" """ "" "" "" "" ""

Once he was up in his chamber, Roaveen turned his mirror to the wall. He wanted to grieve without seeing himself, let alone others seeing him.

The badger, in a fit of furious helplessness, dug his powerful claws into the wood of his table, digging until a series of deep scratches ruined the table's fine appearance. Unsatisfied, Roaveen repeated his actions until his paws bled. Using his fists, Roaveen pounded the table to

By the time he was finished, the table was unrecognizable.

He stared at it, all of his anger and grief let out. That aside, he wondered if he was not grieving enough for his own father. Would it convince the others if they saw how he had wantonly destroyed a finely made piece of furniture?

Roaveen wondered why he did not feel more grieving about his father. Yet he could not once think of a time he had spent with his father that was a truly happy time. His father had been distant at best, highly demanding of the eldest son in replacing him as Badger Lord.

That was one thing Roaveen had hated about Thornback. The badger, for all his book smarts, had been completely stupid in not realizing the pressure that the eldest had to be the best, better than his brothers, so that he looked at them not in love but in competition?

Nobody understood, Roaveen thought to himself. That's a lesson you taught me well, father. If nothing else, that is the message you gave to me.

He had decided a long time ago that nobody could understand him: therefore he would not allow himself to be examined. He had distanced himself from the Mountain Regiment in the sense that they looked to him as their superior. That was why he was so bothered when Korari had garnered their friendships. It challenged his system and his authority. But in the end, the Regiment had chosen their proper leader, Roaveen thought, content.

If he would not be manipulated, he would certainly manipulate others to get him what he wanted. Was it not his right, as Badger Lord, to wield this power?

And soon, Roaveen thought, that power would be his for good.


	35. Chapter 35

34

Adisa yawned as he crept towards the Cellar. He knew that few would be up, but he should still be careful in his movements.

As usual, the Cellar Hog was awake and at work. Vinicio was always an early riser due to the fact that cooks got up early for breakfast. It suited Adisa now that Vinicio occupied the Cellars to himself.

The hedgehog greeted the civet, and led him to the small room that the hedgehog had given to Elial to use. Only Vinicio had the key, and thus prevented anyone from accidentally running into the old fox.

Elial was already up, sipping contentedly at a glass of apple juice. There was also a small bowl of porridge on a little table, which Elial sat next to.

The wizened fox smiled pleasantly enough at the civet, but there was still a hint of the irony of the situation, "Slept well?"

"I tried my best,' Adisa replied, 'but I was haunted by the dreams of the past."

Elial's smile faded, "I can imagine that it would chase you for the rest of your life. I know what that feeling is like."

Adisa frowned, "You have that feeling? Being a mercenary and a creature who has committed the sins enough for twenty other creatures?"

Elial grunted, "If I had listened to the first preacher with that message, do you think I'd be here now?"

Adisa saw the wisdom in that, and apologized for patronizing, "That is one of the things I myself despise in others."

Elial nodded, "It's not the most admirable quality in a personality, and it can lead to your undoing."

Adisa sighed. He was still tired from waking up in the middle of the night: he had been unable to sleep for an hour or so.

Elial suddenly looked at the civet enquiringly, "What was the name of your friend the hedgehog?"

Without thinking, Adisa spoke Arly's name.

Adisa suddenly realized that he had not connected the fact that he should hate this fox. He had of course ordered the two rats to killed Arly, who had been a good person and had not deserved to be murdered in such a cowardly fashion.

Elial, could see hate being built up almost naturally in the civet's eyes, "If you want to hate me, then I should give you all the reasons to hate me. I was the one who slit the hedgehog's throat. I stood by and watched my lackies desecrate his body with their knives and rob him of valuables."

He paused, but then continued quickly, "Although you cannot deny that I ended the hedgehog's suffering. And if you still want to kill me, then remember who employed me. I had no problem with Alonzo before I was paid to kill him. Who paid me?"

Through the anger he had not realized he had, Adisa knew that Elial was a mercenary, and that the real person to blame was the old otter who had paid this creature to bring about the death of his friend.

Elial raised an eyebrow at the effect he had caused, "You want the Abbott destroyed, don't you?"

Adisa paused, and saw the traps in the answers he could give. But it caused him to think about the question hard. Did he want Varrus dead? Of course, he thought. But why? For justice, Adisa had always thought. But was it really about justice and not about a deep urge for vengeance that he had disguised even from himself? What was he really expecting to happen to the old otter? It was suddenly a confusing question, and Adisa did not have an answer to give.

Elial smiled at the civet's hesitation, "Don't spend too much time thinking about it. If you want justice, that's fine, but vengeance is an equally good reason. He wiped out your whole family and stole everything from you."

"I should be above such things. I should count myself to have more dignity than that otter," said Adisa in a resentful tone.

Elial chuckled, "If you weren't above that decrepit, then you would have murdered the two rats that murdered your friend the hedgehog, and you would certainly have killed me. If you weren't above that otter you wouldn't have recovered from your miserable state of anger and hate. You wouldn't have come here just to scare him and seek revenge through justice. And if you want vengeance, then take it. It is a reward for your commitment to dignity and honour."

Adisa did not know what to say. He merely shrugged, "Do you want a bird for your supper tonight?"

Elial grinned, "Aye. If you can, a nice plump swallow will do. That, or a pheasant. I've always been partial to pheasant."

Adisa liked pheasant too, and decided he himself would enjoy that kind of bird.

He set out towards the thickest part of Mossflower, seeking a pheasant roost somewhere.

It was almost noon by the time he set out, and he figured that he would not be missed at lunch.

But if he knew he was being followed, then things would have been much different.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" """ ""

Varrus was keen to expel Adisa, for the civet would then be taken away from his sight forever. He had ordered Verso to tail the civet if ever he went off alone. And the mole stayed true to his word: though Adisa hadn't noticed, his journeys were being monitored by the mole and his friends.

So, when the civet headed off into the forest, they followed him confidantly, knowing the forest better than the civet did.

As Adisa loped along, looking around him and listening, Verso kept very quiet and tried to figure out what the civet was doing. The mole had no idea what the civet was up to. Maybe he was seeking to complete some kind of ritual? Verso knew Varrus would like that one, so he edged closer, hoping for such an event to occur.

Adisa was surprisingly unaware of being tailed. But of course, he was no expert at it like Ben or Elial, and he was putting all focus on finding a nice pheasant to eat.

Time seemed to take a long time when little happened. Adisa remembered the times where he and his brother would go hunting for birds with their father. They had been good memories, even though there had been so many bad ones from that time.

Adisa remembered his father teaching them how to walk without sound in the forest, and to be incredibly slow and careful when dipping your paw into the water to catch a fish, and then be quick as lightning when throwing it onto the shore.

Adisa had always been the quickest in catching fish. Every time he would catch three for every one that his brother brought back, and before long he could come home with two fish when his father came home empty-handed.

Eventually, Adisa heard what he was listening for: the cackling call of a pheasant. And judging by the echoes, there were several of them in one place.

Creeping forward, he could see a tiny clearing coming out of the endless lines of trees. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, Adisa crept forward, preparing to spring forward and take a pheasant down before it could fly away.

Peering through the shrubs, he could see, in the light of the sun bursting through the little clearing, no less than six plump pheasants. They strutted and wobbled, occasionally snapping at each other when they crossed paths. They had no idea that a civet was peering at them so intently.

Adisa waited for one to get very close, so close he could reach out and grab it. But these birds were taking their time. They also seemed quite content to stay where they were, in the warm light of the clearing.

Adisa decided that he would have to spring out if the birds didn't come close enough. Slowly, as quietly as possible, he unlooped a sling from his belt. Taking a stone, he prepared to strike the nearest bird unconscious.

Verso, meanwhile, had crept around to the other side of the clearing, watching Adisa's pointed face through the bushes. Adisa was so concentrated that he did not notice anything else, much to the mole's advantage. He could see the six pheasants, and at one point he could swear that one of the birds looked at him for a full fifteen seconds before resuming it's business. A mole was no threat to a pheasant, but they still avoided his part of the clearing.

Much to Adisa's surprise and fortune, the birds headed towards his side of the clearing almost intentionally. He wondered why as he spun his sling through the air.

The stone flew like lightning before striking on of the birds clean to the side of the head. Instantly unconscious, the bird flopped over and lay on the ground. The others flew into the air squawking shrilly,

Adisa pulled out his knife and stepped into the clearing. He saw that the bird was still alive, and slit its throat to put it out of its misery. Blood spurted out suddenly, splashing the civet's head and habit. Adisa cursed, but immediately apologized to the dead bird.

Verso could not believe his eyes. He had never seen blood spill, and the sight was enough to make the mole want to vomit. Clutching his stomach, Verso shut his eyes tight to keep from moaning. Shivers went through him and coursed along his spine. It was horrible! he thought. No one should be slain in such cold blood, or such casuality. Much like his old friend Arly had been killed...

As he thought of Arly, Verso began to weep. Struggling to keep himself silent, he peered through the tears to see where Adisa had gone. But the civet had disappeared, leaving behind a bloody pool in the clearing.

Verso shook his head from another spasm at the sight of the blood, and quickly hurried through the brush towards the short cut that would take him back to Redwall before Adisa ever got there. He had found the evidence to defeat the civet, and he wanted to see the civet exiled once and for all.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" """

Adisa did not go to Redwall immediately: he headed for a large beech tree that he had found while on the run from Arly's killers. He had stayed there when the hedgehog had been murdered, and noted its silence and isolation. It would now serve as a rendezvous between him and Elial. The old fox had agreed that they should meet off Abbey grounds as often as possible in terms of his favourite food. The smell of the meat would be noticed by a vegetarian population.

Adisa roasted the pheasant on a spit, sighing contentedly as he inhaled the scent of the bird cooking over his fire. The civet had discarded of the habit, taking a replacement from his satchel. He decided to bury it somewhere where it would not be found.

A low whistle announced Elial's arrival. The old fox smiled as he entered the warmth of the fire, gazing at the bird roasted to near perfection.

Adisa grinned as he sampled a piece with his knife, his mouth smacking from the heat of the food, "I was always the best cook in the family." He looked at the old fox, and his grin slid from his face. The fox was not looking at him, but Adisa felt some bad vibes from the old fox. He could never forget the death of Alonzo, but there was something else in this fox that made Adisa feel bad. Did he know this fox from somewhere? Had he met this fox before?

Elial sat down slowly and carefully upon a log Adisa had rolled towards the fire for such a purpose. Adisa handed him his share of the pheasant, and tucked into his own portion. It felt refreshing to eat meat again.

The two of them ate their meal in silence. They were wary of each other, for reasons that they may not have understood.

At least, Elial understood for sure. He glanced at the civet a number of times, staring intently at his face, as if wondering something.

Adisa made no comment. He was not going to make small talk with the old fox. He needed him to bring Varrus down, but that was it.

The civet finished his meal faster than the fox, and got up abruptly, "I need to head back to the Abbey. The lunch is almost finished, and duties will soon begin."

Elial nodded almost absent-mindedly, then spoke, "What was your father's name?"

Adisa took a step back in surprise, "What?"

"Your father's name. I want to know what it was."

"You knew my father?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. What was he called?"

"...his name was Azubuike."

To his surprise, Elial repeated it perfectly, as though he understood that tongue. The old fox's eyes glazed over, and he repeated the name, as though trying to place it. Then he gave a knowing smile at Adisa, "The shamans do indeed seem to tell the future, don't they? They knew exactly how you would turn out, and the role of your father. You were both named so perfectly."

Adisa growled, for he too had found it chillingly ironic at how accurate the situation seemed. But he did not like how this fox had such knowledge of his culture: his touch seemed tainted, and Adisa did not want the old fox connected to his people.

He turned around and headed back to Redwall.

To face his downfall.

"" "" "" "" "" "" """ "" "" "" ""

Adisa never saw it coming, and even in hindsight he knew he could never have done anything to prevent it.

The moment he re-entered the Great Hall, he was confronted by three Brothers of Redwall. Both their faces were grave, and Adisa could tell they had been two of Varrus' supporters. They looked at him with such suspicion and hate that there could only be one person that could have persuaded them to feel that way. Adisa had found it tragic that some creatures followed orders and traditions so well that it drove out all reason and thought.

However, he felt that there was nothing amiss outside of perhaps an attack on his race or his religious past (technically, he was still what they considered a 'pagan', but his bravado had put much belief that he had converted).

As he looked at their eyes, he noticed something else. It was a look that had been overshadowed by dislike and distrust. It was a smug look of triumph in their gazes. They knew something, or they thought they did. Adisa wondered what was going on.

One of the brothers spoke, "Could you kindly come with us to Cavern Hole, Adisa? You must look after the Dibbuns this afternoon." Adisa recognized him as Brother Gores, the Recorder of Redwall.

Adisa was surprised. He had never taken that duty before, but he hadn't thought much of it. What was going on?

"When was this decided?" Adisa asked.

"I think it's best if you come with us,' Gores insisted, and the other two stepped to the side of the civet so as to avoid any escape. Adisa was trapped.

"I say! What's going on?" An angry voice called out. Adisa jumped, recognizing Conrad's voice.

Gores glared angrily at the younger mouse, "This does not concern you, Brother Conrad." He and Conrad had opposed each other at Elfwin's trial, and they still stared at one another with suspicion.

Conrad folded his arms after taking off his ridiculously small glasses, "You have no right to take this creature unwillingly anywhere, Gores. Have you forgotten Redwall's reputation?"

Gores frowned, clearly irritated, but then adopted a condescending tone, "Careful who you lecture about Redwall. I have been here far longer than you, Brother, and I have been entrusted with several sacred duties. Are you suggesting I am not worthy of those roles?"

Conrad was silent. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Adisa frowned, then looked at Conrad, "I will go with them Brother. This whole situation has become ridiculously exaggerated."

Conrad's eyes widened, and it seemed to the civet that he was about to say something that would acknowledge their deeper acquaintance. He cut across, "This is not your business, brother, with all respect, of course." He allowed himself to be led away past Conrad.

Gores turned back to Conrad, "Your presence is also required, Brother."

Conrad stood where he was for a moment, then began to hurry off towards Cavern Hole from another route.

Gores repeated his message to all the other robed Brothers and Sisters of Redwall that he saw. All the while, Adisa was kept in custody between the younger monks.

Adisa knew that he was in trouble, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

When they finally arrived in Cavern Hole, the Brothers and Sisters of Redwall had been organized in a circle. Varrus stood at the far end of the circle, within the ring of the Brothers and Sisters. Adisa could not make out his expression, but he was soon standing in the center of the circle.

"Brother Adisa,' Varrus began in a sombre tone, 'you have placed yourself upon our judgement, and you agreed to follow our ways, forsaking any false Gods in your past life and to take up a righteous life in the service of Redwall."

For a limited time, Varrus, Adisa fumed, but he kept silent.

Varrus paced the floor around him, circling Adisa like a wolf would encircle its prey, "For this time you have proven yourself by attending all ceremonies and practicing all traditions. There was some question about your true character, but it seemed to be mere gossip."

Varrus was enjoying this, Adisa thought. He was making this look like a circus show.

The old otter stopped and looked the civet straight in the eye, "Yet now we have heard of a report that states you have blood on your hands."

Adisa suddenly straightened up. A trace of fear entered his body. What was this about?

Varrus continued, "You have slain an innocent creature, sacrificing it to your pagan gods, and dining upon it afterwards."

Adisa was getting scared inside; how did they know of this? And what did they know of Elial?

"" "" "" ""

Varrus was remarkably composed and grim for this situation. Of course, the old otter knew that it was not done yet, and much could go wrong.

But he was so close! So close he could smell it! The feeling that Adisa would disappear once again and never be permitted to return. The excitement at the peaceful exile he had lived for so long returning made it hard for Varrus to keep his composure. But this was in front of the Brothers and Sister of Redwall, and if he turned them now, he would be safe.

"" "" "

Adisa allowed himself one look around at the Brothers and Sisters. It was not a frightened glance, almost a confidant, lazy gaze, though it did not reflect Adisa's feelings.

He looked around and saw that Conrad had taken up his place among them. He was not looking at Adisa, as though the civet was not worth staring at. As much as he felt hurt and scared by this action from one of his only allies, Adisa realized this was the logical thing to do.

Mother Sara and Vinicio were there too, their faces neutral. Foremole, not being a brother of Redwall, was not there. Indeed, most of the Brothers and Sisters of Redwall were mice, even though a number of others lived in Redwall that had not taken the sacred oaths.

Adisa turned back to the Abbott, "What is this all about? What is-"

"- You will refrain from speech until spoken to." Varrus overrode him sternly, but without any mockery or exultance. He was acting the role of a judge, and acting as such quite brilliantly.

Varrus waited a second before continuing, "I have been given testimony that you killed a bird in cold blood, spoke in your native tongue, praying to heathen gods, before taking the corpse away and dining upon a murdered animal. Do you deny it?"

Adisa frowned, "Where is this testimony from?"

Varrus too frowned, "That is irrelevant. These people have seen and heard the witness, who swore on his eternal soul that he saw you murder a pheasant and speak in your tongue."

Adisa looked hard at Varrus, "You had me followed."

Varrus gave a small smile, "Let it be noted that he has confessed to the killing of a pheasant." Some murmurs broke out among the hooded figures. Adisa realized that the murder of a pheasant, alone, was not a good crime to persecute him for. What was the difference between killing a pheasant, and killing a fish on Abbey feasts? Were otters murderers?

Of course, with the other accusations, the damning evidence piled up. By the great spirits, but who had followed him? Adisa silently cursed himself for allowing himself to be followed.

Varrus spoke again, "What have you to say in your defence of your second offence?"

Adisa gave a cold smile, "Is it not true that when we take a life in Redwall, such as a fish, we pray for forgiveness? I merely did the same in my own native tongue."

Varrus looked angry, for he saw the logic in it. He spoke swiftly to still the hubbub that would have broken out, "But did you pray to the one and only God, or did you call upon heresy?"

Adisa opened his mouth to speak, but Varrus beat him to it, "Swear now upon your love for your mother that you prayed to the proper God, or face defiling her memory forever."

Adisa almost roared in anger. Varrus had used one of the most sacred oaths in civet culture, for if one could not love the people that created and looked after him, then they were not truly good people. Adisa dared not defile his mother's memory with a lie, and thus kept silent.

Varrus smiled, "He cannot deny his heresy."

He turned to look at the circle of monks and nuns, "Brothers and Sisters of Redwall, you have seen the evidence against this creature, and you have seen the untruth in his answers and in his being."

He turned back to Adisa, "Adisa, you are banished from Redwall Abbey, never to return and enter its hallowed gates. You are declared an outcast."

Some monks in the circle gasped, for they had not thought the punishment would have been that severe. But most nodded their heads. They had been persuaded by Varrus' interrogation.

Adisa gave a cold smile, trying to salvage his dignity, looking at nobody but Varrus, and was escorted from Redwall Abbey.

Varrus had won, and had cast Adisa out of Redwall for good.


	36. Chapter 36

35

Ætharr inhaled the cold air as he left his Hall and went into the forest where he had killed his first adder.

He went there in the mornings to exercise. He hated to lose his fitness or his strength. He wanted to remain fit and able for war, for it was a healthy and strong Ealdor that better united his people against an enemy. And if they were going to fight the Loptrio and the Alcax, he would need to inspire the kind of loyalty he had had while in exile.

Ætharr had never known what it truly meant to be an Ealdor. He had learned quickly, for if he did not, dire consequences would happen. But still, he felt tired and weary much more frequently than when he had been in war. War filled one with stress, but it also filled Ætharr with energy. Carrying out common duties were burdensome, however necessary.

Ætharr managed quite well to ignore his boredom and get everything done what had to be done. But it would be nice to break the tedium with some kind of raid or an attack upon his foes.

Strange, how one grows up doing one thing, then feels incomplete when he does not engage in that action or subject. Ætharr had prepared for war all his life, when hiding in exile. Now war was in his blood; he could not ignore the fact that he enjoyed it at times. It was exhilarating to lead an army of loyal soldiers into battle, with the sun and the glory shining down upon you.

But this was not the issue. Ædall had just returned after helping Craterus and Derfel, the new Ealdors, become properly established in their reigns. Craterus was a good creature, and Ætharr knew that in the coming seasons, he would rely on Craterus' charisma as a leader and also his strength as a warrior. Derfel was not so much as promising as Craterus, but was an able creature and would serve as a good defender of the country while the main army went to war.

The coin system was now fully established. Jinn continued to produce coins at a steady, organized rate to ensure there was not a surplus of coins or a lack of it. It took a careful thinker to plan this strategy out, and Jinn was more than capable for the job.

But Ætharr was concerned for Rosheen and his children. It wouldn't be long before his sons would have to partake in the necessary measures to become true Calador weasels. And what of Nuala, his little daughter? He adored her as much as her brothers, but knew that her education would be best learned from her mother. Rosheen, who had wielded a pike at the siege of Brocovar, who had led the Falcarragh tribe to battle, would instill the warrior spirit in Nuala so that if the time came, she would manage the care taking of the land of Calador efficiently.

Meanwhile, it was the cool morning, and the sun was an hour away from rising as Ætharr performed his daily exercise, first completing a distance running, then a series of weightlifting, and finally a practice in bow, axe, and spear.

The exercise always gave Ætharr a ravenous appetite, and he would come back in time to have a large breakfast waiting for him. Today was no different, and after his workout, the Ealdor returned to his Hall, tucking away happily while the rest of Æthelly's population was just getting up.

Æthelly did not produce much food. There were few farms nearby, and so they imported most of their food from other regions of Calador. What the capital served as was a base for the Ealdor, a rallying for the army, and a production of tools and weapons. Many merchants and crafts mammals started here to begin their trades.

Ætharr knew his capital city, the city of his birth, like it was his own right paw. He could get around if he were blindfolded, and it comforted him to be within this city.

But he knew he had to go speak with Viggo today. As much as he despised the old, crippled weasel, he knew that he needed Viggo's intelligence and his support.

Ætharr hated Viggo especially due to a conversation he had had with the weasel at a council back when Calador was still infested with Millar gangs. It had been only a day after Ætharr had married Rosheen.

"" "" " "" "" "" "" "" " ""

He had headed out to the southern part of Calador, where Viggo's theignship faced the long road towards Southsward. In between the two kingdoms, there were numerous obstacles, one of which was the Kala tribe, the most southern based clan of them all. They were insignificant compared to the threat of the Loptrio tribe and the Alcax tribe, so Ætharr did not often look to the south.

But this time, he and an escort of Rojo and nine others of the Royal Guard headed down to where a meeting had been organized. Lanvor, on his master's orders was keeping a low profile, keeping a silent, unnoticed watch over Ætharr's family.

In the southern region of Calador, the fyrd had somewhat degenerated. They had always been left as a garrison of the countryside, and they had not partaken in the wars against Oorlog and Ælfer. Viggo maintained a silence that protected his people from persecution, and did not take much risk.

His hall was splendid, as was the village surrounding it. It was built on a high point overviewing a small lake, while the houses were neatly built on the slope. A palisade and battlements guarded the bottom part, and with the water guarding its back, the settlement was an ideal place to withstand a siege.

Unfortunately the defences were in need of repair. Ætharr growled as he saw the lack of guards on the wall. He would have had twice the number, prepared to call an alarm and organize everyone. Clearly they had grown accustomed to soft living.

Viggo was not standing outside of his hall. Instead, there were Ulric, and Ptolemy to greet him. Ætharr had no qualms with either of them, and was especially grateful to Ulric for the weasel's assistance in the war.

But he had always regretted that Ptolemy had never become part of his most intimate circles. Certainly Ptolemy had never failed him, he had always assisted in any way he could, whether alongside Gæruff or assisting Ulric. And then when he had reunited with Ætharr in the last few weeks before the Battle of Verfluchtes Land.

A number of others were inside. There was Viggo, of course, and Keld. Keld could never look at Ætharr, especially in those days just when Ælfer's regime was being defeated. But he was still a theign, and an Ealdor needed the support of all his theigns.

There was the mightily built Craterus, who was taller than Ædall, and that in itself was no mean feat. Some might have questioned his right to be there, for at that time he had only been a captain in his uncle's fyrd, but it was made clear that he represented Cynefrid at this meeting while Cynefrid and Judos were away in the north, fighting resistance. Ætharr admired this nephew of Cynefrid, and knew even then that he ought to give Craterus some kind of status.

There was also Horal, rounding out the group, standing awkward without his sword. There was Ferric, looking fit and happy, for it had been he and Horal of all the theigns in the room that had been with Ætharr from the start. He had proven his loyalty a thousand times over, and had nothing to look forward to but good favour.

Æđelstan was present also, as were Gyras and the newly promoted Agricola. Almost all the theigns of Calador were present at this meeting.

Ætharr nodded to all of them, and sat down. They all followed suit, in respect of the Ealdor.

"So how are the borders? Any sign of the Loptrio?"

Viggo shook his head curtly, "I have not heard from any Loptrio attacks." He spoke in the sense that he was only telling a half-truth.

Ætharr looked at the old weasel, "You have something to add on?"

"It seems to me that you do not fear much from the Kala tribe."

"Why should I be concerned about them?"

"The Loptrio bribed the Alcax tribe to work with them. They can do it again. We will be surrounded by enemies."

Horal looked up in confusion. He had not understood Viggo's subtle message, "We'd have the Falcarragh as a partial barrier from the Loptrio, and even if you add in the Alcax and the Kala tribes, that would only be a half-circle..." His voice trailed away as he realized what Viggo was implying.

Ætharr had understood it instantly, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Viggo wrinkled his nose, "This whole problem started when you married Rosheen. It was a ridiculous move altogether, and a thorough disrespect to your country!" With the last word, he slammed the table surface with his paw.

Ætharr felt amused at this old fool's bigotry, "I have deep respect for the Falcarragh tribe, and to marry their chief's daughter will forge a great alliance."

Ptolemy, sitting at the opposite end of the table, leaned forward to hear all the conversations, hidden partly by shadow. The others were on either side of the rectangular triangle looking anxious at this exchange and urging themselves to speak.

Viggo grimaced, "Yes and I suppose you love her too. You seem to value this tribe chief's daughter more than the traditions that made Calador rise above the other primitive clans surrounding us. What your father would have thought if he saw you now, I do not know."

"The people of this country will not accept an outsider as the mother of the Ealdor's sons..." Keld spoke angrily.

"...then they'll learn to accept her!" Ætharr interrupted exultantly, "When I was at the siege of Brocovar, she saved my life several times, and she led the army that saved the rest of us from ruin. To this day, my uncle would be ruling you all."

"Aye, but you've both upset the balance that made us powerful. Now we drift from the proper path and mingle with the other tribes, for what? To extend our influence?" Viggo spoke up swiftly, now standing and walking towards the Ealdor.

"To make strategic alliances and welcome traders is not hurting us or our people, Viggo!" Ferric broke in indignantly.

"And what benefit does it give us, then?" Viggo retorted, turning his head towards the younger weasel.

"We have the loyalty of Ibos, Tiarnan, Kazahley, and Blackaxe! We can trade resources, improve our armies, and maybe even put an end to all the border strife between the clans once and for all!"

"If that was the solution, by the gods, we'd have done it ten generations ago!" Æđelstan broke in pompously, "Do you think there might have been a reason for our isolation? Did you not realize at all, Ferric, that our strategy has kept us alive and led us to win battles that should have been our doom?"

Gyras, the youngest person there, stared at Æđelstan, "That coming from a weasel who toadied to Ælfer is an insult to everyone in this room."

Agricola, always one to pacify, held up a paw, "I am willing to put aside the fact that Æđelstan chose to stay silent and protect his own people from being targeted by Millar rats. We must consider that some of us have children that we would wish to protect our people. They of course

Æđelstan gave a small smile, "Aye, that's why I'm still alive and sitting here, while others spoke out too boldly and had their lands ravaged and their people persecuted..."

He could say no more, for he was drowned out by the scraping of a chair being shoved back. Gyras, his face twisted in livid fury, pointed a claw at the surly weasel, "How _dare you, _Æđelstan! My father gave his life for his country, he was a true warrior that wouldn't be bullied by a traitor and coward. He was worth ten thousand of the likes of you, you miserable...!"

"Gyras!" Ætharr and Ulric called out, Ulric half rising from his chair. Gyras stared first at Ulric, then at the Ealdor, and slowly sat back down.

Ætharr resumed control, "These are changing times. I know some of you thought that my father would live to grow old and that I would be able to assume control of the land with more time. But this did not come to pass, and I have done what is necessary to prevent that from happening again. I will not bend to old conservative minds that may have spoken the truth before."

He paused, and looked at the theigns in turn, "But I would include you all in this future I wish to create for Calador. It will be the beginning of a new age: the true rise of our people. We will emerge not just as the superior power, but as the conquerors who attempted the unspoken of. We shall unite the tribes together, and prosper...' he paused again, 'Or they shall be faced with the option of the sword."

Ptolemy stared at Ætharr. It was surprising, but it should not have been so unexpected.

Ulric stared up at Ætharr, who had gotten up in the middle of his speech, "What are you saying, Ætharr?"

Ætharr sat back down, "I have brought peace thanks to the sword, and if I must, I will wield the sword again, harder than before, for my people."

Viggo growled, "Your father never lusted for war, or changing the order of the long seasons past."

"Damn you, Viggo! You are behaving unwisely and foolishly!" Ætharr glared at Viggo.

Viggo was not to be swayed, "Ætharr, I watched you grow up from a crying little pup. I turned a deaf ear to your snide remarks, and then was content when they were no longer uttered. I thought you had learned your lesson, and I did not favour your uncle to be Ealdor. He was a traitor, and you had to dispose of him. I don't deny that. But in the respect of those who supported you to be Ealdor,' With that he swept a paw over Ptolemy, Ferric, Agricola, and the others, even Keld and Æđelstan, "Do not put us in this direction towards our eventual downfall. To share our might is to invoke betrayal among these so-called allies you have made."

Ætharr said nothing for a long pause. No one dared to say something to break the moment. They knew that it was time to stay silent.

Finally, Ætharr nodded.

"You've been heard clearly, Viggo. We are in new worlds now, and if we do not adapt to the new world, we shall burn up in the old one."

Without giving anyone a chance to respond, he added, "Tomorrow, you will send part of your fyrd to the southeast, and assist Agricola in gaining his new theignship."

He turned to the other theigns, "After supper tonight, I shall give you all the battle strategies for tomorrow. We'll be able to drive out the Millar clan in less than a week if we all act quickly.

This ended the council, but it did not end the feelings that some theigns had harboured.

"" "" "" "" """" "

Keld and Æđelstan were both dead now, as was Ferric. Craterus, Ptolemy, and Derfel had replaced them, and in Viggo's eyes, it was quite clear that Ætharr was wiping out opposition among his theigns by choosing those who would be most loyal to him. Of course, they were perfectly qualified for the job. There was no denying that.

Ætharr had been right though; the alliances had only benefited Calador, without inviting any permanent immigrants to Calador. Obviously, there were Judos and Rosheen and the Royal Guard, but apart from that, no non-Calador weasel lived permanently in Calador.

But what would Ætharr do when faced with such a dilemna? It was an incident that would likely cause much more debate and contrast among the theigns.


	37. Chapter 37

36

Judos smiled at the completed library that now stood in his town. It was at least twice as big as his hall, and filled with scrolls recording the histories of Calador, Redwall, Mossflower, Salamandastron, and other tribes. Judos had interviewed traveling merchants coming from other tribes, and some of the Royal Guard had also travelled to Judos' home to speak about what they knew of their history. Rojo was more than happy to narrate the histories of the Jeri tribe to Judos: he had never forgotten the wound to his eye that would have killed him had Judos not pulled him out of battle and brought him to the doctors. He was always happy to pay the otter a favour.

Judos was grateful to those who had helped him, and to show his gratitude, he carved the names of those who had provided knowledge over the entrance to all archives in his province. They would be remembered only in name, but at least they would be remembered for what they did to help the educational system.

As the next two seasons passed, the youngsters in Judos' land begun their education immediately. Judos had worked tirelessly to re-train the teachers of the schools, and many of the older ones had made trouble with this foreign theign. Ætharr and Ædall had asked if Judos needed someone to persuade some of the bigots among the population to accept his rule, but Judos declined. He knew that if he got the Ealdor or his cousin to fight the battle for him, then he would lose face. He had to master the situation himself.

One in particular had stated that all the students needed to know about Calador's neighbours was that they were inferior.

Judos had smiled and said, "That's why I'm theign and you're not. And if you don't change your curriculum, you won't be a teacher either. You'll just be an angry old weasel who did not realize the times were changing and decided to be difficult."

Several had been removed from post, but Judos tried to replace them with the younger generation, teaching them about their subjects more thoroughly. All had learned the history of Calador, but they had never been taught the history of the other tribes, let alone Mossflower.

So he decided that it came to him and Selma to teach the instructors about their new fields, and then pass it on to the students. This way they would be motivated to learn, and everyone would benefit.

But Judos had never been a teacher before. He had been a warrior, a leader of soldiers, but that seemed to pale in comparison to teaching people about topics, let alone a group of teachers who knew how teachers were supposed to act.

He fretted over it for a week, letting panic grow inside him, while Selma would repeatedly assure him that all would work.

Judos found that his stress caused him to consume most of his time in dedication of teaching the instructors. He was pleased with their rapid progress: he had selected the ones who would be the most motivated, and he had chosen wisely. It was a vast relief to see that the curriculum was quickly learned for instructing the youths.

At the end of the session- a two week period that Judos would never forget as long as he lived- Judos knew that all that was left was to inspect the schools and ensure that everything was working: he had done his duty and succeeded. He could relax.

Then Ætharr revealed that he could not.

It was the first time that Judos really got to interact with Ætharr's children.

"" "" "" " "" "" " "" "" "" ""

A group of twenty male youths came from Æthelly three days after Judos' program had been completed. They were shepherded there by Rojo and Ædall, both happy to see Judos again.

They listened, interested, as Judos told them of all the weight on his shoulders. Ædall smiled at the end of it, "Now you're sounding like my cousin."

Judos asked about Ætharr, and Rosheen. He asked many questions about what was going on in the outside world.

War had begun. The Alcax tribe had begun fierce raids on the Jeri lands. Still weak from their long wars, the Jeri tribe had fought back viciously by sending Luther Pelopidas and his Sacred Band to the border. While the phalanx style was a very strong formation, it was not meant to battle against fast raids, and they had trouble combating the Alcax' hit-and-run method of raiding. Ibos had promised to send troops, but then a plague had entered Ibos' kingdom, he wrote, and could not spare anyone. Ironically, it was the Hunan tribe that provided the most help. Kazahley sent three parts of his total army to aid Blackaxe, and were able to stem the flow of the raids considerably.

Ætharr had sent Gyras, the hot-headed but brilliant warlord, to help them out. Gyras had taken his fyrd and left, with strict orders not to invade any Loptrio lands, nor was he to attempt to overthrow the Alcax tribe. That would prompt the Loptrio to attack Calador directly and in full force. Ætharr did not want to put Calador through another war until the new generation had grown old enough.

Judos was nervous of these attacks. He knew that peace would never last if the Loptrio tribe remained hostile and persuading others to join. But he could not help but feel content that there was peace. He did not want to march to war soon: he had barely survived it the last time, and he did not want to tempt fate.

But there was also the Sword of Martin the Warrior. It laid an immense weight of guilt on him at times. He did not know if he would ever be able to return it to Redwall, and if he died, who would make the journey? He had told Ætharr of this desire, and Ætharr had promised him that if it was within his power, he would arrange for it to be returned.

But what if Ætharr died also? Who would return the sword to its rightful place?

Of course, Judos did not reveal this to Ædall or Rojo. There was no need to bother them with this worry. In fact, nobody who had heard the story of Martin the Warrior's legendary sword had asked if it was the same sword Judos wore.

The youngsters were excited from the journey, but also quite tired. Ædall explained, "It took us two days to get here. They'll have to take a rest here for tonight. Their lessons will start tomorrow, if that helps."

Judos was relieved. He had not made any preparation for the lesson. Now he would have plenty of time to make a lesson ready.

He looked at the children. One looked familiar to him, and he looked closer in surprise. The boy was still quite young, but Judos could tell he would grow to be very fit and strong. However, he was acting just like any of the children in the group.

"Recognize any of them?" Ædall asked.

Judos' head turned to look at Ædall. There was a little smile on his face, and Judos saw it then.

"Is he your son?" Judos asked.

Ædall's grin became wider, "None other. I have three daughters too, all of them healthy and happy."

Judos was surprised, "When did you get married?"

Ædall's smile left, "Did I never tell you?" Shame crept on the weasel's face, "I'm sorry. It was a very quiet wedding a season ago."

Judos was confused, and almost said, "But he's older than that..." He stopped himself from saying that, though. It was not his business, and so instead, he asked Ædall what his name was.

Ædall's smile returned, "His name is Ælfhere. It was the name of my grandfather, a great Ealdor in his day. He will carry that legacy with much pride."

In hindsight much later, Judos would find it ironic how Ætharr, Ædall, and others would preach about change, yet given the chance, they would preserve and cling to the past and tradition.

Of course, Judos did not think of it at the time. This was because he had noticed another familiar face in the crowd of youngsters. In fact, a number looked familiar.

The otter stared inquisitively at Rojo, "Are these the sons of all the theigns?"

Rojo smiled, "Well, not exactly. Only some of them are here. I'm sure you recognized those two over there. They're both Ptolemy's boys, and those three are Agricola's lads. And then of course...'

He was interrupted by the otter, "But why me? Why am I the one who must teach them?"

Rojo's smile became wider, "Do you think there's an education system that supercedes yours, Jude? You've changed everything about it! The children are learning about whole worlds their parents never heard of outside of song and story. You've set an example for all the theigns, and Ætharr too. So he's decided you should teach them what you know, and then they'll learn the rest from others."

Judos felt overwhelmed at the thought that his attempt to educate the children of his land was now the bar to achieve in Calador. Was he making himself a legacy?

Just as he thought that, he felt as though someone was looking at him. He turned to look for the source of the gaze.

It was one of the weasel youths. He was very thin, almost frail at first sight, and Judos wondered who this was. It was hard to find out in his face, but...no...could it?

Judos did not want to intimidate the boy by staring back at him, so he turned away and tried to picture another face next to that of the boy's. Who was it? It gnawed at Judos that he had seen that youth before.

Ædall had noticed the scene, and quaked with mirth, "Alright, lads! Form up properly now! Give proper respect to Theign Judos!"

Clearly Ædall had left an impression on the youths, for they ceased to speak, and looked with intense, innocent curiosity at the otter before them. Some glanced wide-eyed at Judos' heavy rudder, scarred from war against Oorlog. Others had their eyes fixed on the Sword of Martin. Judos felt as though he was a circus performer all on his own before an expectant crowd.

Except he was not alone. Rojo spoke up, "Come now, manners!"

"Good afternoon, Theign Judos!" Every weasel called out the greeting, though the lack of unison was such that few were understood. But Judos noted how some had stolen fearful glances at Rojo's heavily scarred face with its single eye. They were already admiring the warriors of the country.

Judos cleared his throat, "Welcome to my theignship. I am Judos, an otter from Mossflower."

"Now I know that none of you have ever heard that word before, and I will not punish you for not knowing it. That is what you are here for: to learn of the history of your country and the world around you. There does exist places outside Calador, and they have their own cultures and traditions, just as we have ours. The gift of knowledge is that we can accept variety and learn to appreciate other peoples around us. This is why you are told to learn from me. I will teach you about this view of the world, and hopefully, you shall take heed now. I believe that all individuals must face a bane in their life. I have come to see this as I look at others, and I see them faced with their banes. Some survived and endured.' He gave a small wink at Ædall, who remembered the anger he had felt towards his cousin, 'while others were not meant to survive.' The youths looked at each other in shock. Death was something that they still did not understand.

Judos continued, "That is why I am teaching you this; because lack of knowledge leads to your doom if you are not careful. Yes, you must become healthy and strong, yes you must be true and loyal, but never forget that knowledge is just as important. If I can teach you that, then I have done my duty."

The youths were now the ones feeling awkward. Some had not understood what Judos had been talking about, but Judos did not mind. He would have time to teach them.

His eyes returned to the thin child. He still could not place him, and it was really bothering him. Where had he seen this face before?

He made no note of it, and instead, spoke up, "Ædall, Rojo, will you stay for a time?"

Both shook their heads, "We must go. But we shall be here if you need us."

The youths waved goodbye to the two as they turned to leave.

The thin weasel called out, "Goodbye, uncle!"

Ædall turned and waved, but Judos knew it was complete coincidence. Doubtless the wave was meant more for his own son, but the other youth was just as happy to see his call answered.

Judos now knew that the youth was one of Ætharr's sons. How could he not have known that? It hurt him to think of it.

So which son was he? Lorcan? Ædelmær? Ædron?

Judos led the boys away, and servants came to arrange rooms for them.

The boys had only just left, when Ædall and Rojo suddenly came hurrying back, "Are they gone?"

Judos, surprised, nodded.

Rojo nodded back, "Good. Just let us fill you in on how these schoolings must be organized."

Judos felt better that he was getting some instructions in all this surprise.


	38. Chapter 38

37

Adisa had been escorted out of the Abbey by Wullock and Verso. Both were smug and nasty in their escort. But Adisa did not even look at them or acknowledge them.

The Abbey dwellers were silent when Adisa walked by. Somehow, they had realized what had happened. Whether they agreed or not, there was no hint in their faces. Adisa did not look at anyone; this humiliation would be worse if he showed any weakness by shifting his gaze around.

Varrus' interrogation rankled Adisa. The old otter had gotten the best of him, and it was a humiliation for the civet. He had been antagonized and outcast for good. Nothing could be done now: Varrus had won.

Before he left, as they were heading across the grounds, a voice called out to the civet and his escorts. Adisa heard the voice, and realized with a jolt that it was Conrad. Inside, the civet cursed; why was Conrad doing this?! Their alliance had to be kept secret even now!

But Conrad never cared for subtleties when loyalty and his honour was on the line. He wanted to help Adisa by acknowledging his belief in the civet, but it would only hurt the mouse against Varrus.

The mouse spoke out against Wullock and Verso, "You shall regret this allegiance to Varrus! He is not the hero you percieve him to be! What Abbott denies a creature the hospitality of Redwall and locks them away for being different?"

Wullock had glared at Conrad. The fact that Conrad was a brother of Redwall meant nothing to the otter, "Careful of your place, Conrad! You would do well not to blaspheme against your Abbott!"

Conrad swelled with furious righteousness, "Blaspheme! You _dare _to tell me of blasphemy, you murderers of justice! Look upon your deeds and hang your heads with shame!"

Adisa did not look at the mouse. He would not acknowledge their friendship in front of their enemies, no matter what Conrad did or said.

Sister Tilna, an elderly mouse who had once served as Head of the Infirmary, took sides with Varrus. She pointed an angry finger at Conrad, who was ten seasons her junior, "Shame on you, Brother! Have you forgotten your oath of obedience to the Abbey and its leader?"

Conrad gave a grim look at Tilna, "There is a difference between the Abbey and its leader! Redwall is an idea! A symbol of goodness, and it only takes one creature in the right position to destroy that image and make it their own!"

Brother Gores, who had just arrived, grimaced at this display, "You are an ignorant fool, Conrad. When have you ever displayed such dedication to Redwall before? You are using this incident to make a scene!"

Conrad did not flush at this accusation, "I have been blind for a long time, yes, but this is the day I have been given sight!" He roared the last half of the sentence as though he were pledging his words to the Lord.

He pressed on in that same loud voice, "_God is with you in all that you do_! And the power of a mortal creature cannot take that away!"

Varrus, who had been listening the whole time from his window, felt a shudder go down his back at the excerpt spoken from that outspoken mouse. He felt nervous of Conrad, and realized that he must be eliminated just as Adisa was being taken away now.

Adisa, in the meantime, now realized that Conrad had changed. He had always been outspoken and cynical, but now he seemed genuinely filled with righteous anger. There was something about him now that made Adisa realize his cause was being taken up by another. Conrad was not making a scene merely out of loyalty to Adisa, but also because he knew that the Abbey was corrupt, and he wanted to save his home from retribution of its Abbott's decision.

Adisa looked at the angry but enlightened Conrad, "I will go from this place. I will not cause trouble: I will go now."

He turned to leave, but suddenly, Conrad called after him, "_Be patient and you will finally win, for a soft tongue can break hard bones!_"

Adisa knew that passage, and he smiled as he walked through the gates. It was slightly ironic that Conrad had not shouted that phrase, because both of them knew the idea of the phrase.

He stepped outside and heard the gates close behind him. He did not look back but went instead to where he had last seen Elial.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "'

Nobody was there when Adisa entered the small sanctuary in the forest. Elial must have made his escape against his word.

Adisa sighed, and the pain of this second disaster caused him to fall to his knees. Was he not meant to topple Varrus? Was he not meant to avenge the deaths of all those civets he had loved and lived with?

"I heard about what happened, civet."

A voice had spoken from the nearby branch.

Adisa looked up and saw a young sparrow. A sparrow colony had once lived in the highest places of Redwall, but since the death of the old owl Sir Harry the Muse, so long ago, they had returned to the forest for the most part. This one must be one of the few that still lived at Redwall, almost unnoticed by the more grounded inhabitants.

Adisa stood up, "You speak their tongue well, sparrow."

The sparrow preened her feathers and twittered, "You speak their language well too, though we both have our own tongues to speak with. I learned long ago that to speak many languages is to thrive."

Adisa shook his head, "My people learned that lesson the hard way." The thought of all they had suffered from, coupled with his failed attempts to win justice, finally broke through his nerve, and he felt tears run down his pointed face.

The sparrow flew down and examined the civet almost concernedly, "In normal circumstances, I should fear you, civet. You creatures must survive on the meat of others, particularly birds. I know you have hunted birds, and will continue to do so long after this, but I can tell you are a good person in your own way. That's why I talked to you in the first place."

Adisa smiled at the kind words, "Thank you, sparrow."

The bird twitched her head, "Call me Warbeak."

Adisa frowned, "You were named after the great Queen Warbeak herself? The greatest ally of Matthias the Warrior?"

Warbeak puffed up with pleasure, "The very same. It is a common name for us sparrows."

Adisa nodded and sat down, "So you heard what went on?"

Warbeak nodded, "Yes, and I told Elial about it too."

Adisa's back straightened, "You've seen Elial?"

Warbeak bobbed her head up and down, "He was heading back to the Abbey when I warned him about it. He asked me to tell you that he's found a new hiding spot for the two of you. I'll lead you to it."

"" "" "" "" "" "" """ """

Elial grinned at the civet across from him as they munched on roast fish. Warbeak was to the west of the small flame, munching on candied chestnuts that Elial had carried in a small bag at his belt.

They were in the old quarry, which had once been the lair of the dread snake Asmodeus, who was coincidentally the slayer of the late Queen Warbeak's father. Matthias had slain the adder, and had taken back the Sword of Martin the Warrior from that evil lair with the help of the shrews.

In all the eons since then, the caves had collapsed in many areas, but there was still a vast maze underground, waiting to trap someone into it's darkness. Elial had found a hole that went only about six feet horizontally into the ground, and had made it their cave to hide in.

Adisa was bemused at the old fox, "Why did you do all this for me?"

Elial grinned, "Still don't trust a sly old vermin, Adisa?"

Adisa ignored that comment, "You asked me for my father's name, you have done more than was asked of you to help me... why?"

Elial's bravado left him, and he gave a straightforward look at the civet, "Because I was there, just like you."

Adisa shuddered, "On whose side were you?"

Elial frowned, "I was on the neutral side..."

"" "" "

_He stood there, in his finest silk tunic. He had done well in the town, providing services for hire. He had earned much wealth, especially from those who needed manual labour. He and his working gang had built some of the best furniture in the town, including a fine table that stood in the cathedral, the center of the town._

_He was still very young, and had a cloudy past. Some whispered of facts that would stun those listening. Some said he had drowned his own cousin when he was a child. Another spoke of a more recent story that involved the mysterious deaths of rival builders in the area. Whatever the case, the fact that he was a fox made some people highly suspicious of him. Of course, he himself did not care that much; he made sure to behave respectable so that there would be no excuse to actually suspect him of anything._

_In all honesty, he hated the settlement. It was no place to raise his young son, Coldbane, for they peppered his mind with religion and faith. If you were not one of them, then you were not fit to be in the same society. Of course, not everyone acted that way. His apprentices and their families were very kind to the fox. But for the most part, it was the normality of living there._

_He had always figured he'd never stay long. But then the work came steadily, as did the wealth, and he had grown to like honest work and working as a master carpenter. His apprentices were good learners, and did not mind that he was a fox. He was a good master, and taught them well. Plus, there were enough good people to help him domestically. With the death of his wife, he was raising Coldbane alone. All four of his older children had already left home, so it was just him and Coldbane to live in the town. They were the only foxes._

_But there were many who spoke out against them. Particularly the grown son of the local minister. The local minister, whose name was Varrus, had three children, but it was his only son that made the most trouble. The young adult made speeches and wrote articles in the paper, promoting the conservatism of faith. He was also good friends with a squirrel called Slade, who used religion as an excuse to terrorize the more unique members of the settlement._

_In fact, he would much rather be around the creatures who lived on the other side of the river. He would regularly go across the river to trade. He liked the civets, though they were suspicious of him. He could see why: creatures like Slade were too numerous. He himself had had to dismiss a number of apprentices for being bigoted._

_One of the more respected civets in the community was Azubuike. Azabuike was the most suspicious of him: as if he could never be trusted by either side._

_Of course, it was not so exaggerated as that. A number of civets liked this old fox, for he was able to speak in their tongue. That in itself was something to hold in favour of him, in the eyes of the civets. And so it was that the civet children played with Coldbane, while he himself would speak to the parents. It was almost a happy time, if the civets weren't so ill-treated._

_The civets had once lived on both sides of the river, but many colonists came to settle in the prosperous land. All had different religions apart from the civets, but they varied in their reactions. While many were apathetic and farmed the land without thought to their neighbours, others were far more sensitive. They spoke the words of their gods, all to no avail. Some of those religious folk moved onwards for greener pastures, but a number stayed, convinced that they were meant to live in a world of one singular religion._

_Those missionaries sought to find as many followers as possible, and those who would not convert were ostracized. Some were powerful enough to continue on, but after all the hostility that grew against them, due to so many conversions and more radicals coming to live there, they left._

_The civets were terribly threatened with all this activity. They of all people were persecuted, not only because their species was not normally found anywhere near those parts, but also because of their tribal beliefs. Many resisted the invasion of locals, but they grew to outnumber the civets and brought things they were not used to._

_Diseases that the civets were not used to infected the civets, and who knows how many would have died had they not realised what was happening. Quickly sensing the problem, most civets packed up and fled before they were struck down with illness. Those who stayed were either too sick or too proud to flee their persecutors. Sickness and violent clashes put an end to the presence of civets on that side of the river._

_Of course all this was before he himself was alive. He had heard stories from both sides of the river, and they contrasted immensely. The locals claimed that there had been a series of battles, exaggerating the amount of skirmishes that had happened. The way they told the tales, it was as if there had been open warfare and only their faith in the Lord's assistance had gotten rid of them. Of course, some of the more intelligent folk, including the old minister Varrus, maintained that the threat of sickness had driven away the scourge of the civets. But they too thanked the Lord for driving away the civets._

_He had hated them, which was surprising for such a mercenary fox such as himself. Those fanatic religious folk. They warped and twisted the minds of their followers, and stained their souls forever. They gave the more mildly religious a bad name, and it saddened him to see so many of his neighbours side with these bigots._

_He grew to keeping Coldbane close to his side whenever he was in town. It was surprising how he could trust the civets, for all their suspicion, to not touch the young innocent fox, but even if there was one extremist in the whole town, then he could not live with himself to let Coldbane wander off. It was his prejudice being a fox, but he did not care. He was starting to care less and less who was taking the old minister seriously or not._

_Of course, his business began to be vandalized. Families of those who kept contact with him were terrorized, however religious they were. Only a few remained courageous, and his resentment grew._

_He felt his sympathies go to the civets, and took to speaking out against their fate._

_It did little to persuade the civets of his loyalty. Those who had trusted him continued to trust and sympathize with him. Those who had been suspicious remained so, but they kept a respectful silence in their judgement. Azabuike and his family did not want to interfere in things that could hurt them, so they stayed away from him. He never ever saw their children for a long time, and only knew their names._

_Then one day, he was in his home, eating a quick supper. Coldbane suddenly got his attention, and the small pup had pointed towards the window. _

_Looking out, he saw a dark figure sneaking along the street. He could tell it was a civet. But what was the young fool doing here? He could be killed!_

_As if on cue, a window shutter moved, and a voice screamed. Other houses lit up as owners inside lit their candles and looked outside. Before he could do anything, he saw that several creatures emerged, carrying torches and blunt objects._

_The young civet began to run like lightening, but was surrounded by houses. They would soon be on him._

_Grabbing a shillelagh, that had been a present from a raccoon named Franklin, he had headed out the door with Coldbane at his side._

_"HALT!" He had roared out, glaring at the riled up townsbeasts._

_They returned his hostility. One called out, "This ain't your business, fox! Clear off!"_

_"This _is _my business! That civet came to me by appointment."_

_That checked the villagers. They were very tempted to argue, but they knew he was prepared to fight for this civet's life. Plus, nobody really wanted to have anything happen, not least because little Coldbane was standing at his father's side, teetering from the weight of a torch._

_Sullenly, they let the civet go, and went back inside._

_He had cuffed the civet on the head and cursed, "What are you doing here?"_

_The civet was just as sullen as the villagers, "My mother is not well. I wanted to find some medicine for her." He had a thick accent, and he looked a bit familiar._

_The three of them headed off to the river. Furious with the civet, he hadn't spoken another word. The young civet was a plain fool, and had been asking for trouble! Likewise, the civet had brooded on the way back, and when he left, he did not even thank him for saving his life._

_Coldbane had looked up at him as the civet disappeared, "Why was he sneaking around?"_

_He had looked at his son, "Because nobody wanted him."_

_They had headed back, to a horrid shock._

_Slade and his gang were standing outside their house, burning it to the ground._

_Furious, he had roared at the gang, preparing to wield both shillelagh and knife. The gang turned around and saw him._

_Slade had called out to him, "Get out of here, fox! You're no longer welcome here!"_

_"Bastards! I'll kill you for this!" He had raged._

_Slade sneered, "Terreblanche! Get his pup and burn him with the house if he touches us!"_

_Coldbane had wailed as one of the large hedgehogs stepped forward to do good on Slade's orders._

_Of course, that ended all opposition. Grabbing his son swiftly, he had walked away, calling at Slade, "One day, you will suffer, all of you!"_

_That was the last time he ever saw that place. He had gone south, become a mercenary again, and had encountered many adventures, too many to name and number..._

When the tale was finished, Adisa had tears in his eyes, "That was my brother! He later told us about you, and my father punished him for not thanking you. It was the only time I ever saw my father angry at my brother."

Elial shrugged, "That was why I didn't kill you when we ambushed you. I have no love for civets in general, but your people had a rough break, and if I could risk my son's life for your kin, I wasn't going to murder you on that Abbott's orders."

Adisa frowned, "So why did you help him?"

Elial returned the look, "Because I was going to be killed if I didn't agree. I have no wish to die anymore. I've been a mercenary too long to give up the way of life now. You don't know it completely yet, but I've discovered that the older you get, the more you cling to life. When I was younger, I was willing to die fighting those who'd wronged me. Look at me now: I get others to do it for me. I'm just getting old, Adisa. Do not hate me for a decision to save myself."

Adisa looked at him, thinking of the Abbott again, "Was he there? When you were banished?"

Elial laughed, "The otter? No. He's too clever to be directly involved. He sent Slade to do it though. They had been looking for an excuse to get me out of the town." After a pause, he smiled, "Ironic, how Franklin had given me that shillelagh, of all the raccoons I ever met."

Adisa was puzzled, "Why?" Elial did not answer.

Warbeak too was confused, "Wait a minute! Varrus and you are only a few seasons apart, but if he was as old as you say he was all those seasons ago, then that doesn't make any sense!"

Elial shook his head, "I was talking about the Abbott's father, Varrus. He was perhaps the biggest influence on his son."

The sparrow cocked her head from one side to the other, "So the father named his son Varrus after him?"

Adisa gave a grim look, "Varrus is not the Abbott's real name."


	39. Chapter 39

38

"Ignorance and bigotry are the plagues of the day,' Judos lectured, 'and you can choose whether to succumb to those threats or to follow the wind of change as it blows past."

His students were all seated in a circle around him. Most were listening intently, though one or two were fidgeting, either bored or sore in their limbs. Judos did not care. He knew his lesson would be obtained eventually.

It was the middle of the second week with his students. He did not think he'd make it this far on the first day. He did not know whether to be benevolent, or stern. What kind of temperament must he have to gain their attention.

The answer came through Selma, that faithful servant and companion. She had smiled at him and asked him, "Be everything that your teachers at Redwall were not."

Judos had been confused, "Why?"

Selma's smile had widened, "Because look where you are today. Would you have been here if your teachers had been the way you as a student wanted them to be?"

No, Judos thought. Indeed, if it had not been for Abbott Varrus, he might not have left. That kind old otter who Judos truly missed alone of all Redwall's inhabitants.

He tried to remember the things that had angered him about the teachers of Redwall. What had irritated him most of all? Judos felt bad in thinking only of the bad things of his instructors, but he wanted to be as good a teacher as possible.

Eventually, he came to it. It was their close-mindedness. How often had he heard any kind of praise for weasels or foxes or ferrets in his classes? They were all mindless, heartless, cowardly bullies who killed for pleasure. And although he knew that there was truth in that, it was not entirely true. Had he now had the chance he could have pointed at a hundred people he knew that broke that stereotype: the compassionate Rosheen, noble Ætharr, hearty Ædall, wise Cynefrid, loyal Rojo, redoubtable Ulric, thoughtful Ptolemy, beloved Selma. So many, and he was just thinking of Calador. He had met many decent people in the other clans during the war.

Funny, even when they had bitterly killed other creatures, Judos could still find something likeable in their characters. Maybe it was their courage or their sense of unity. Wasn't that something that Redwall admired?

But Judos had decided to not be critical, and attempt to convey all parties in a neutral tone. This would allow the students to decide for themselves what was right and what was wrong.

Ptolemy's two sons, the youngest in the group by a few seasons, were concentrating on writing down what Judos said. The otter looked at them, "Meleager! Keraunos! Do not forget that the written information does not mean you have understood what I have said. Make sure to listen and contribute to what is being said."

Both nodded dutifully: Ptolemy had done well in teaching them manners and respect, but maybe they were in too much awe of Judos to be disrespectful.

Judos nodded and turned back to his lecture, "Before coming here, what did you know about the land of Calador?"

One youth raised his paw, "Calador is a land inhabited only by weasels." That caused an awkward silence, for living proof of the opposite was their instructor.

Judos took it lightly, "Very good, Antigonus. An example of unawareness and ignorance. By any chance, did your father Agricola taught you that?"

Antigonus shook his head, "My grandfather, master."

Judos tried not to smile, "No doubt your grandfather was taught the same things, and he has become a victim of ignorance."

He looked around him again, "So who can tell me which clans border our territory?"

The very thin young weasel spoke up, "The Falcarragh, the Vireo, the Loptrio, the Alcax, the Kala, and the empty lands to the east where the Millars used to be as a barrier. But now they've been scattered into those eastern lands."

Judos smiled, "Very good, Ædelmær."

""" "" "" "" """ "" "" "" """ "" ""

Judos had discovered the names of those around him in a way that his teachers at Redwall had done it: a roll call that determined who was present or not. This was the only thing that he would take from his memories of school at Redwall, for they had been organized if anything.

He had put them in a line, standing straight to attention properly. Judos knew that Ætharr would have wanted it, but he felt it was perhaps a tad too imposing on them at a young age.

They stood straight, astonishingly obedient to their new teacher. Clearly they were as nervous of the otter as he secretly was of them. It had helped to calm Judos down considerably.

Judos had started at the end of the line, and had pointed at the young weasel at the end, "You, lad."

The child's eyes had visibly widened before he answered, "Yes, Lord Judos?"

The otter had felt so empathetic to the weasel that he had given a kind smile and had softened his tone, "State your name and parentage." Usually, this meant who their father was. That was one thing that Judos disliked about their system, though the daughters were told to name their mothers, so it somehow evened out. At least, that's how Ætharr had reasoned it to Judos, but it still felt odd to the otter.

The weasel had spoken up, "I am Ælfhere, son of Ædall."

The next weasel spoke, "I am Meleager, son of Ptolemy."

The list went on, and Judos recognized these names in the roll call.

"Keraunos, son of Ptolemy." The youngest of the group, there was no doubt who his father was.

"Antigonus, son of Agricola." Antigonus and Judos had met before, but not under these circumstances. Judos had wondered if there would be tension.

"Carolis, son of Cynefrid." Carolis was the oldest of the group, nearing his mid-teens. He had inherited his father's intelligent face and chiselled features.

"Nearchus, son of Craterus." Judos was astonished at first that Craterus was the boy's father. Little Nearchus was quite chubby, and Judos found it amusing to place this little lad next to his tall, powerful father.

"Leofric, son of Agricola." Judos had almost jumped at that name, remembering the former theign who had drowned during the war against Oorlog.

"Æfwine, son of Agricola." The third son of Agricola, he looked as though he were Agricola himself in miniature.

Then out spoke a name Judos had been waiting for, "Ædron, son of Ætharr!"

The voice's owner was a beefy-looking weasel of average height, but Judos could see Ætharr in this weasel without a doubt. He had the same kind of hue in his fur, but there were features of Rosheen in his face. Perhaps it was the fact that his eyes were rounder than Ætharr's, more like Rosheen's side.

Ædron seemed to look boldly at this dear friend of his father's. As though he expected higher treatment for being the Ealdor's heir. Judos did not want to do that, but he also wanted to be kind towards this boy to whom he had sworn allegience to at his birth.

He had not made any acknowledgement, and instead asked for the next name.

On went the list, until another familiar name rang out, "Lorcan, son of Æthar."

Judos had looked at Lorcan, and could not see much of Ætharr. Clearly, his name had decided which family he'd look like, for Judos could tell that this weasel would grow to be big and strong like his uncles Ædall and Cocoran. But for now, he was shorter than his brother Ædron, and seemed to avoid him by looking at Judos. Judos did not want to favour one weasel in front of everyone and the otter's eyes shifted to the next one in line.

It was the frail-looking third son of the Ealdor, and Judos almost mouthed what he heard next.

"Ædelmær, son of Ætharr."

Judos felt sorry for the little weasel. He sounded so self-conscious, as though it hurt him to be proclaimed the son of the Ealdor in front of everyone. But Judos once again moved to the next one in line.

That was how it had begun for them. Judos now knew who was who, and was able to administer the schedule. The morning began with exercise in the form of laps, and wrestling. This was standard among the youth, who were still too small to train with weapons.

Watching them wrestle, Judos would offer what advice that he could. He himself had little knowledge of the sport, so he had hired two veteran soldiers injured from the war against Oorlog. Both had fought under Judos, and had followed him to his new theignship, bringing their large families to live there. War made ties that lasted a long time afterwards.

Both were quite willing to take the jobs, and they paced around the small gymnasium, lecturing the youths even as they wrestled furiously with each other.

Even though he knew little of wrestling, Judos could see who was faring better than others. Lorcan, for example, was able to defeat both his brothers and a number of the other boys. As the days wore on, he was pitched against Nearchus, and emerged victorious after a fierce match. By the time the second week had begun, Lorcan was facing Carolis, who was the oldest of the group. Carolis was victorious so far, but Judos could tell that Lorcan would not cease to drive himself until he had beaten Carolis.

Ædelmær was the one Judos worried about. His size was a handicap in such a competition, and the otter could see that it hurt Ædelmær to see his brothers with more success in the competition. Judos knew he should not pick favourites, but he could not help but look out for Ædelmær more than Ætharr's other children: he seemed to need attention more than his brothers. So he would casually pass by Ædelmær twice as much as the other boys, just to see if he could offer advice.

Judos was thus doubly surprised when near the end of the first week, Ædelmær had lost his third consequtive match to his partner, and he had looked furious in his humiliation. Judos, who was walking by at the time, always swore later that tears were beginning to fall down the little weasel's face.

Ædelmær had suddenly glared at Judos, "Why are you always here?" He had brushed his eyes and had sulked.

Judos was so stunned at this outburst that he barely saw where he was going. He thought about it, wondering what he had done to earn Ædelmær's anger. He had always tried to help the weasel, tried to give him encouragement to overcome his defeats. What had he done wrong?

He had looked at Ædelmær, and for the umpteenth time recognized the features of his face that came from his father, Ætharr.

His father....

The truth came to Judos in an instant of astonished realization. Ætharr would not show such emotional concern, not even when offering a lesson. Judos noticed it during the war against Oorlog, when younger Calador soldiers trained against soldiers better than they. Whenever they had failed, or were defeated by the opponent, Ætharr had given curt advice, as though they should never have needed it. It had added to the shame, Judos thought, and hurt their self-esteem considerably. However, when he had spoken to Ætharr about it at the time, Ætharr replied, "Watch them the next time they fight."

And when Ætharr had called for a resumption, Judos saw that the majority of those who Ætharr spoke to were quite motivated to gain Ætharr's approval. They took the advice as an insult to themselves, and they sought to outdo their first performance, and show Ætharr that they could do better. They achieved that, certainly, and Ætharr had smiled at them, showing that he had succeeded in encouraging them to do better.

But Judos looked at the smaller percentage of weasels who were so hurt by their Ealdor's scorn, that they performed worse. They seemed to give up, to see that there was no point in trying if they seemed to do poorly. This alarmed Judos, for they would die in battle with that attitude. Everyone told him that a soldier's pride was one of the essential qualities of a soldier, so that he would not accept defeat. With the attitude that some of these creatures had, they would surely die.

Judos had looked at Jinn, who had been standing on his other side, and had pointed that percentage out. Jinn had shrugged, "Watch them over the next week."

Judos did so, and he saw that of those who had continued to fail, a number of them eventually overcame it. They went through a rough period and overcame it, and gave them the sense of success that had evaded them. Ætharr, generous towards achievement, had acknowledge each one with congratulations. This was the best part of the success for some of them, and they went on to fight like heroes in later battles.

But Judos could not help but point out those who still got worse. The worst cases ended in a dark night, and a weasel drawing his sword, falling onto the blade in a last surge of fury at his own failures to meet the standards of a Calador soldier.

Judos remembered those suicides. Though quite rare, it was sad for the Redwaller to see such a waste happen. Certainly Ætharr took it hard, for it meant failure as a leader to his troops. He would wonder why they had committed suicide, what he had done wrong, but would usually find that he had not treated them any different than the rest. So he moved onwards; he had been far too driven in those days to lie in a depression about suicides when the vast majority of his troops were content...

Now Judos saw, through Ædelmær's sadness, that Ætharr had used this strategy in the case of his sons. It was surprising to Judos, and for a moment, he thought bitter thoughts about Ætharr. An image of Ædelmær, lying on the floor of his room, a knife through his own little heart, almost drove Judos to panic. At first, he thought he had to speak to Ætharr immediately, and almost walked out of the gymnasium, when he realized he was being foolish.

What could be gained from doing this? Nothing. Ædelmær would surely feel worse about it, and Judos would cause an argument between himself and Ætharr that could only turn murky. He decided to see what Ædelmær would do, and see if he had the nerve and determination to pick himself up from the dust and try again.

""" "" "" " "" """ "" "" """ "

Ætharr's strategy worked. After the day's Ædelmær was pitted against his brother Ædron one day, and it seemed clear who would win. Ædron was much heavier than Ædelmær, and was far more confidant. Judos could see an arrogance in the child's eyes, but decided that it was too late to call off the fight.

He did not stick around to watch the fight between the brothers, for he did not want to put pressure on Ædelmær. He walked around the gymnasium with the two coaches as they watched over the students.

Then a cry of pain sounded from where Ædron and Ædelmær were fighting. Judos looked around, and a wide smile began to creep onto his face.

Ædron was face-down on the floor, with his brother on top of him. Ædelmær was holding him down, forcing his brother's arm behind his back.

Judos felt a deep relief in him. Ædelmær had succeeded. The look on the young weasel's face, beneath the great effort that it took to hold his brother down, Judos could see a flicker of wild triumph and excitement in the thin face.

Even as he saw the relief, Ædron roared again, reared up, and Ædelmær lost his grip. Ædron, his face a look of injured pride and childish fury, lunged for Ædelmær, but Judos decided to stop the fight.

Grabbing both brothers, he called to them, "That's enough for now! You both fought well."

He turned to look at Ædron, "Never underestimate your opponent, not in any circumstance." He had said it in a kindly voice, but Ædron scowled.

Judos turned to Ædelmær, whose face was a mix of surprise that he had succeeded in holding his brother down, and sadness that he had lost in the end. His mind racing faster than time, Judos wondered what he should say that would sound like a compliment.

He thought of one. Holding onto the Ædelmær's bony shoulder, Judos smiled and said, "This is just the beginning for you."

Judos could see hope entering Ædelmær's eyes, and then a smile of determination filled his face, "Let me do it again! Someone else!"

Judos smiled, "Very well."

No sooner did he turn around, Ædelmær's paw in his, when he saw Ptolemy enter the gymnasium.

Meleager, Ptolemy's son, called out to his father in delight. Kerouac too, gave a call to Ptolemy. The others looked up at the theign as he crossed the floor towards the otter.

Judos could see that something was wrong. Ptolemy's facial expression was cold and angry. His face was quite composed, but he gave off an aura of anger that radiated across the room.

He nodded respectfully to the otter, "I need to see you. It's urgent."

Surprised, the otter followed the weasel out of the gymnasium, with orders to the two coaches to resume the match. Ptolemy and Judos stepped into the sunlight of the day, and headed for Judos' hall.

Ptolemy spoke as he walked, "How are my children?"

Judos was at first at a lost for words, but he answered, "They do well. They're younger than the others, but they learn their lessons just the same."

Ptolemy nodded curtly, "Ætharr has given me bad news. Very bad news."

Judos looked at the weasel, "What is it?"

"You know Tiarnan?"

Judos remembered the king of the Falcarragh. He had spoken with Tiarnan the day that his daughter Rosheen had given birth to her children, and he had spoken with him many times before that. He liked the weasel chieftain, for he was a charismatic warrior with a wonderful sense of humour. Plus, his daughter Rosheen and his son Cocoran were fine people as well. Judos smiled, "I know Tiarnan, yes."

"He's dead."

Judos almost tripped over his own paws. He stared wildly at Ptolemy, "What?"

"He was poisoned."

Judos felt tears come to his eyes for Rosheen. And poor Cocoran, and Tiarnan's other children.

Ptolemy looked Judos straight in the eye for the first time since they left the gymnasium, and the otter could see the grief in the weasel's eyes.

"His funeral is in a week. We are to attend, as are Ætharr's children. Lessons will have to be stopped for the time being until we return."

Judos nodded, and went to arrange for his children to be returned to their homes, and then to travel to the land of the Falcarragh to bid farewell to the foreign leader most loyal to Ætharr.


	40. Chapter 40

39

For all the sadness, it was definitely a perfect send-off to the former Falcarragh leader.

The Falcarragh tribe had prepared a massive funeral pyre for their beloved leader, and it had assembled a number of the leaders from other tribes. It was slightly ironic, that they were mostly comprised of leaders that, before the alliance, Tiarnan would gladly have scrapped with. But there was no ill will meant on their part.

Certainly it was the largest gathering for a Falcarragh chief's death in their history. Ætharr of Calador had come, with most of the theigns and soldiers that had known and fought with Tiarnan and the Falcarragh. Calador owed much to this chieftain, for his army had been instrumental in driving out the Millar bands.

Others had arrived. Blackaxe of the Jeri came, despite the war on his borders, and Kazahley of the Hunan. Ibos came with Brownhide, his right-hand command, who had been promoted to the Royal Vizier and the Commander of Vireo's army. All of the Falcarragh lieutenants, and many of their soldiers, had come to honour the dead Tiarnan.

Others came from outside the tribes. One in particular was warmly welcomed by Tiarnan's family: Ben the mercenary came a day before the funeral, one of the last to arrive. He had met with the grief-stricken Rosheen, who stood with her husband, also grieving for a father figure he had never had growing up.

Ætharr and Judos nodded at the raccoon, "Ben."

Ben had been weeping; his eyes were red, and he showed off an aura of grief. He gestured towards Rosheen, "Your father was a good person. One of the best I've ever known. I know he will be honoured in the after life by his sires."

The compliment was well given. Rosheen, already weary from grief, had begun to weep once more. She embraced the raccoon, thanking him, and was gently led away by her husband and eldest brother.

Cocoran thanked Ben as well. The large weasel seemed a resurrection of his father at times, and there had been little competition among his brothers on who should be chief. Cocoran had always been the one chosen by their father, and was the one most fit for leadership.

The funeral pyre burned for twenty-four hours, so massive was it. Tiarnan's funeral was filled with songs of lament, songs of hope, and songs that honoured Tiarnan's many achievements. For Judos, who had never known such a massive funeral, it was certainly magnificent.

After the funeral pyre was burned out, the new chief was ceremoniously chosen. Cocoran underwent the ritual, and was hailed the new chief by all. In return, Cocoran renewed the oath to the alliance, and was eternally grateful to those who had attended.

It seemed a blur to Judos at times. He felt drained, obsessed with a thought that would not leave his head; _who had killed Tiarnan_?

It seemed inappropriate to think of that question at Tiarnan's funeral, but Judos could not help it. It was strange: who could it possibly have been? Certainly not someone from the Falcarragh tribe; he had been loved by his tribe, and as far as Judos knew, he had no significant enemies.

But for some reason, it did not look like something that the enemy had done. For if it was so easy to murder Tiarnan, why wait so long, and why not strike against someone more powerful and dangerous? Judos did not have any proof, but it seemed to him that this was not the work of the Loptrio tribe.

But then who could have done it? Judos' heart chilled whenever he thought of the third option: someone within the alliance had betrayed the alliance and murdered Tiarnan.

It was difficult to determine who would do it. What would be the motivation? What would they want to gain from all this?

Then another question entered Judos' head; what would the reaction of the alliance be? What measures would be taken?

This would wait until the day after Cocoran's ceremony. The newly chosen chief of the Falcarragh assembled his lieutenants and called for the other leaders of the alliance.

The meeting was held quietly, in a well-guarded palisade that was well furnished for its outward appearance. The leaders sat together along a long table, which had been prepared for dinner arrangements. Servants came with roast bird, fish, and an assortment of bread, potatoes, and some vegetables. Everyone ate silently, while some like Cocoran and Judos could not eat, for some reason. It seemed as though the dead was now officially separated from the living.

After the meal, the chiefs waited until the servants had cleared the table, and the doors were bolted shut and guarded to scare away eavesdroppers. Now came the matter of council.

It was the first time that the chiefs had all been together since the Battle of Verfluchtes Land, and each had gone their own way. Now they had business to speak of with each other, good and bad: also there was the affair of Tiarnan's death.

Ætharr, the one who had started this whole alliance, was the first to speak. He stood up, "My friends, you have clearly seen a terrible thing has occurred. My father-in-law, a great warrior and leader, murdered. The question is; who is the one behind it?"

Judos could see how upset Ætharr secretly was by the death of Tiarnan. Of course, it took a lot for a Calador weasel to show his true grief in public, and Ætharr was a model example of that resilience and stiff upper lip. However, a good friend of his could notice the feelings he was hiding from others, and Judos of all people who knew Ætharr, would be most likely to sense the emotions in his friend.

There was silence at first from the others. None could think of something to say. How to start this council on that note presented by Ætharr?

Judos dared first: he got up and spoke, "I must say something Ætharr. I do not think that this was the work of the Loptrio tribe."

After a sharp intake of breath from some, Ætharr turned a curious, surprised look at Judos, "What do you mean?"

Looking into his friend's eyes, Judos saw instantly that he might as well have kept his mouth shut; Ætharr had known that truth as well, but had not spoken of it. The otter suddenly felt foolish for speaking up, for he realized that most of those here would have thought this out beforehand.

Ibos, it seemed, had not thought of that option. His look of surprise was genuine, unlike Ætharr's, "Yes, it would seem obvious, wouldn't it? The Loptrio have been hiring the Alcax tribe to attack us and urge the southern tribes to attempt to take our lands back."

No one commented, but doubtless thought to themselves, that Ibos had not given any assistance to either problem, but had found excuses that could not be challenged without insulting the Vireo tribe's honour. The young king was not the creature his father had been, but nobody would admit that to a Vireo's face.

Judos turned to look at Ibos, "I mean that if it was so easy to murder Tiarnan, why would the Loptrio not assassinate more of us as well? It makes no sense to kill one of us and inflame our anger towards them. They would lose against our forces. There would be no hope for victory."

Cynefrid and his nephew Craterus nodded agreement. Ptolemy permitted himself a small smile towards the otter. The others looked around at others along the table, waiting for the next speaker, for whoever spoke next would have to voice the fear that they were all holding in their heads.

Grim-faced Jager, renowned captain of the Jeri clan, dared to voice the fear, "There could be traitors amongst us."

No one wanted to see that be true. It was dangerous to even suspect anything, let alone act upon their suspicions. It would be so much easier if there were enemies on the outside rather than the inside of the alliance.

Then again, no one wanted to be the only one oblivious of the threat. Something had to be done, but deciding who would do it seemed to be a bigger problem than what had to be done.

Ætharr leaned back, "This is a bad thing to suspect. I will not accept this as truth unless there is evidence of such traitorous behaviour. I will not act rashly: I maintain my trust of all who sit here today." He clearly did not want to instill hard feelings, and to discourage hard feelings among the others, Judos could see.

Evidently, there were hard feelings. Ibos, the young king of the Vireo clan, was looking down onto the table, trying to avoid the eye contact of someone.

Judos looked around the room, and saw why Ibos was so self-conscious. Vogel, one of the theigns who was in charge of the former Millar lands, was giving Ibos a dark look. Clearly he was thinking of when Calador had had to fight off the southern tribes from both Calador's lands and Vireo's lands, with little assistance from Ibos himself.

Ibos could not stand it any longer, and met the older creature's stare, "If you have something to say, weasel, say it now." There was only the faintest quiver in his voice as he said this.

The creatures began to look at Vogel, who frowned, "With all due respect to his Highness,' a very faint sarcasm was immediately detected by all listening, 'but I wonder why you have continued to withhold assistance that would be well needed and respectfully asked for."

Brownhide, older and tougher than his master, stood up, "Be careful whom you insult. He whose tongue runs away from him may not find it again when appropriate!"

Jager sneered at Brownhide, in the same mind as Vogel, but he dared not speak out and insult his liege lord, Blackaxe, who made a gesture to his captains that they were not to speak.

Vogel was not so wise, "Frankly, I wonder what Blackback and Coldbane would have thought had he seen you lead the armies of Vireo in this fashion. What would King Nero have said if he...?"

_Clang!_ Ibos had smashed his goblet down onto the table. "How dare you, you impertinent creature!" He shrieked, and stood up as if to prepare for blows. Brownhide immediately put his paw out to his lord.

Vogel had also started to rise, when three others rose faster than him. Judos, Ædall, and Ulric all stood up and glared at their fellow theign. Vogel, caught completely off guard by this hostility from his own side, glared self-righteously at them. However, their point was made, and he slowly sank back, muttering an apology to the others in the Council.

Ætharr had not looked at Vogel at all, yet Judos could see that the Ealdor's face had blackened beneath a mask of cold dignity.

He spoke again, "I know that there is war happening in the Jeri lands, where the Alcax tribe has invaded. Much help has arrived from the Hunan clan, thankfully, and rest assured, I will double my forces in that land."

Cocoran spoke up, "I will take a tour of my borders, to ensure there are no difficulties, and then I shall send one of my lieutenants to aid my fellow ally King Blackaxe."

Though no eyes shifted, it was clear that all pressure was on Ibos. If he did not assist now, if he continued to find an excuse, they would deem it as cowardly and unmanly.

Ibos rose to the challenge with dignity, however, "I'm pleased to say that the plague has ended in my realm.' He turned to look at Ætharr, 'And to show my gratitude for your help in driving the southern clans back, I will give you recompense for any costs that war took." It was well-given, yet Ibos was red from some kind of embarrassment.

He turned to the others again, "I will pledge a hundred troops to my ally's cause. They will certainly be familiar with Jeri lands." He tried to chuckle at his own joke, but he drifted off when everybody merely nodded in acknowledgement of the past alliances.

The meeting continued on, discussing other little problems, until the leaders bid each other farewell, and departed from the room with their theigns, lieutenants, and captains.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Judos and Ætharr headed out side by side, the other Caladors behind them. Judos whispered to his friend, "We did not pursure the subject of betrayal like we should have done."

Ætharr nodded, much to Judos' surprise, "I know, friend. I am going to receive new reports on their actions from Jinn and his agents."

Judos was surprised. Jinn had established an agency of spies to give information from across Calador and other territories, but the otter had assumed that Ætharr had abolished the network when the war had ended, "But wouldn't that be dishonourable to our allies?"

Ætharr frowned, "Never take chances. I've learned that the hard way." His face turned dark, and Judos knew memories of his father were torturing him again.

When they returned to their entourage, Judos was reminded of the military bases that Ætharr had established in the Juska lands. What would be done about those? How long was Ætharr planning to establish that military occupation?

When the otter asked, the Ealdor smiled, as though it was a reminder of something trivial. He spoke in an amused tone, "I will tell you now, Judos, that I do not intend to let the Juska get away with what they did. I want to keep them in their place for good. As I will do with the Loptrio when the time is right."

Judos was confused, and slightly intimidated by the manner Ætharr spoke of control, "When will that time be?"

Ætharr's smile left his face, "It's a meticulous plan I'm in the middle of conjuring, but it will involve some dangerous work."

Judos said no more of it. He did not want to know what Ætharr was planning to do, for the otter had the sense that the weasel had told him things he would not have told to anyone other than his closest friends.

Just when they were outside Ætharr's tent, Ben walked up out of the gloom, "You wanted to see me after the meeting?"

Ætharr nodded, "I told you a while ago that if you were as good as I've heard you are, you could find work in Calador."

The raccoon nodded, "Aye."

The weasel smiled, "I have a long-term plan for you, if you're willing to listen. Come into my tent, and we can discuss it in private."

Judos made no attempt to follow, and was surprised when Ætharr suddenly turned around and beckoned the otter to enter with them, "You must be here too. Did you think I was excluding you?"

The otter smiled, "I am weary. I have to return quickly and continue teaching your sons."

Ætharr nodded, and suddenly leaned forward, "How are they? Are they content? I have heard nothing from them as of yet."

He sounded so vulnerable, so eager for news, so much like a father, that Judos wanted to laugh. But he did not. He told Ætharr of his sons, how Lorcan was the champion wrestler, how Ædelmær was picking up much knowledge, and how Ædron was showing to be prominent in the group. Judos again wanted to laugh as he saw the fatherly pride swell in the Ealdor, and for a brief moment, the weasel allowed his full happiness to appear on his face. Then the moment passed, and he wished the otter goodnight and went into his tent to speak with Ben.

Judos left for his own tent with mixed emotions. One moment, Ætharr had revealed two things; his dark ambition to rule more than just Calador, and his deep wishes for his children to be successful. It was the kind of contrast that had always left Judos surprised and unsure. These were feelings he had never coped with at Redwall before: it was just another adjustment to living in Calador.


	41. Chapter 41

40

Ætharr looked closely at Ben. The raccoon's eyes were hardened, like a soldier, his body was muscular beneath the thick fur, and his shillelagh was notched with cuts that each represented a creature killed by that weapon. The raccoon was confidant in his actions, sharp in his reflexes, and valuable as an ally.

Ætharr leaned in, "Have you anything to go to, Ben?"

Ben shook his head, "I came to you because you told me that you look for the best. And based on what's going on around here, you're going to want to get all the soldiers you can for the war you're planning."

Ætharr smiled to himself. This raccoon was certainly insightful and thoughtful: he would be very useful in his plan.

He raised an eyebrow, "I have made enquiries about you." This was true: Ætharr had spoken to Cocoran and others among the Falcarragh, and they all vouched for Ben's ability and loyalty.

Ben smiled, "And you're satisfied? Otherwise you wouldn't have brought me here."

Ætharr nodded, "I need you to act in secrecy and deciet. Something that will require stealth, which you're used to, I know."

Ben nodded. Raccoons were far more able to act at night than other animals, and Ben had a superb night vision.

Ben frowned in thought, "You want me to assassinate the leaders of the Loptrio tribe?"

Ætharr was impressed that Ben had such a knowledge of the tribes. Information either saved your life or ended it at any time. The Ealdor's hopes were confirmed: this raccoon would get the job done.

Ætharr gave a low whistle. Ben whipped around, knowing that the whistle was a signal. The raccoon was fast; he saw the tent flap move, and leapt forward to pull it back, his other paw ready to strike with the shillelagh.

No one was there. Ben paused, shook his head, and turned back to look at Ætharr.

That was when a large weasel grabbed him from the side and poised a bodkin near the raccoon's left eye.

Ætharr smiled, "Benjamen, meet Lanvor. He is one of my deadliest warriors, and one of the most loyal troops I have. He has kept a very low profile the last few seasons, guarding my family. He will help you."

Lanvor had known Ben would pull back the flaps ready to strike, had known the creature would be quick, so he had out thought the raccoon's intentions. He had caused the tent flaps to move, and had hidden away, invisible among the shadows. When the raccoon had turned around the weasel had slipped in, despite his size, without rustling the fabric of the tent flaps.

Ben nodded respectfully at Lanvor, who nodded back.

Ætharr bade them both sit down, "I want you both to maintain low profiles. I want you to pretend to leave Calador, Ben. Make sure you are seen leaving, and perhaps comment how you will head for a specific destination. The farther the better, but you will be going somewhere else; a location we give you. Then, after a week or so, Jinn will contact you and give you your instructions. Lanvor will do likewise, but he will not be with you for a week or so. We need to keep this secret."

Ben frowned, "How long will this go on?"

Ætharr shrugged, "It could take a few seasons. This will be difficult to pull off, and will cause a lot of trouble if it goes wrong. But rest assured, you will be amply rewarded."

Ben nodded, "Is it pre-agreed, or can we negotiate?"

Ætharr opened his palms, "By all means. How do you wish to be rewarded? How much shall I pay you?"

Ben raised an eyebrow, "Using your coinage would only apply to Calador: it would do little good to me elsewhere."

Ætharr clucked his tongue in disagreement, "Not true. The coinage is now being used in Calador, Jeri, Falcarragh, Hunan, and Vireo." All the leaders had confirmed that they would use the coinage from now on to make it easier for their tribes to trade and prosper, though each tribe would have a specific design on the coins from their tribes. To ensure that all the coins were the same, Ætharr entrusted the chiefs of each tribe the secret method to make the coins. That way, the value of every coin would be the same, and would discourage counterfeiters.

Ben looked thoughtful, "The place I will be staying at. Will it be a public place, or will I be secluded?"

Ætharr shook his head, "You will be placed in a settlement that I can trust. The theign is my loyal friend Judos. He will doubtless welcome you."

After a pause, Ben gave his decision, "Could I then be given the possibility to have a salary for every week I spend in Calador?"

Ætharr nodded, "An allowance? Very well. When you leave, you shall be well supplied and given an escort so you can escape safely."

Ben smiled, "Then that's all I need." His face grew serious again, "Will Judos know about the plot?"

Ætharr paused, as if considering it, then nodded, "It would be dishonourable to keep him blind to the truth."

Judos was called in the next day by a servant. Buckling on his sword, the otter headed for Ætharr's tent. Rosheen and the children, along with most of the others, were already heading back to Calador. Ætharr, and a number of his theigns were still here for a moment longer before leaving.

Judos entered the tent, and saw that Ben was there as well. Ætharr nodded cheerfully to his friend, getting up to direct the otter to his seat.

Judos sat, awkwardly because of his sword, and looked from weasel to raccoon. Both were looking at him, but Ben had a certain interest in his eyes as he looked at Judos' sword. It was not the usual curiosity: Ben seemed to have heard of it before.

Ben looked him in the eye, "Where did you get that blade? I've never seen such a weapon before."

The otter hesitated, "It's a long story."

The raccoon grinned, "Would it include Redwall Abbey?"

Judos started. No one had ever connected the sword with the Abbey before. It was almost scary to have to explain his theft of the sword, for there was no telling what would happen next.

Ben's smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. His face took on a sad realization that was a surprise to Judos. What did the raccoon have to feel bad about? What did it have to do with Redwall? Judos was so curious that he asked the question.

Ben paused, and shrugged, "As you said, it's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you later."

Ætharr, who had stayed politely silent during this exchange, entered the conversation, "Which leads us to the plan I have concocted. Judos, I have something important to tell you. I shall be completely honest with you, and I hope you will not speak lightly of this."

"" "" "" "" """ "" "" """ "" "

Judos had been inwardly stunned throughout the whole discussion. It was unthinkable, stupid, what Ætharr was planning to do. It was going to be horrible, and it would blight a thousand lives before anything was achieved. Then it could either get better or worse, but either way, many lives would be affected.

Outwardly, Judos made a huge effort to hide his emotions. He politely nodded, agreed, and shrugged when necessary. Finally, the explanation was over, Ben slipped out to prepare his disappearing act, and Judos was left with Ætharr.

The otter sat in his seat, overwhelmed suddenly with the fact that he had so much to say to the Ealdor. He did not know where to start.

Ætharr looked him in the eye, "What do you want to say, Judos? I know you have been waiting for this moment to speak your mind, so do tell me please."

Judos found his tongue, "You can't be serious about this."

Ætharr smiled, "More serious than anything I've ever been about."

Judos sprung from his seat, "But it's madness! Don't you know how many ways this could go wrong?"

"What do you think I am? I have deemed this to be worth fighting for."

"This decision must be yours alone?"

"I am the only one who has a chance of succeeding."

He was right, Judos thought angrily. Of all the people with this ambition, Ætharr alone was capable of fulfilling it, "But it's still the slenderest chance!"

"Think of the prize. Isn't that worth fighting for?"

"No, Ætharr. It isn't!"

Ætharr stared curiously at his friend, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that this is different from your wars against Oorlog and Ælfer. You threw your banners across the sky, turned fields red with blood, but it was for a purpose worth fighting for! You wanted to avenge your father's death, reclaim your rightful position as Ealdor, and take your country out of the paws of a tyrant. You wanted to crush tyrannical forces who stood in the way of... of creatures better than they." Judos stopped himself saying 'the forces of good' just in time. Even after all this time, he was not sure if these were truly the forces of good.

Ætharr took no notice of that, but ploughed on, "You say the Loptrio are not tyrannical?"

"No, but..."

"Do you deny that they must be punished and defeated?"

"Not for a crime they didn't commit."

Ætharr frowned, then growled, "Tiarnan is dead! My wife has lost a father, and the Loptrio must surely be at the heart of it. There is no other possibility."

"But you agreed that it didn't make sense!" Judos could not believe what he was hearing from his friend.

"I also said that I do not believe I was betrayed! And if there is no traitor among us, who else could have murdered Tiarnan?"

Judos paused, not sure what to say. Suddenly, something in him clicked, and he stared accusingly at his friend, "You don't really believe they did it! You're using it as an excuse! You want war!"

Ætharr did not smile, but nodded gravely, "You know me Judos."

Judos was not sure if he did. Surely Ætharr did not love war this much?

"You can't do this just to take over the tribes and rule as the supreme king!"

Ætharr raised an eyebrow, "And why not?"

Judos' eyes widened further, "Because it's hypocrisy! You want exactly what Oorlog wanted!"

"NO!" Ætharr bellowed, a look on his face that made Judos's blood chill, but only for the briefest of moments.

Judos frowned, "Well what is it then?"

Ætharr glowered, and gestured to where a map of the tribes was pinned up on the tent canvas, "You see that map, Judos?"

Judos nodded, "What about it?"

"The blood that has soaked into the ground of that area could form a canal all around that area. The tribes have massacred each other for eons. Who knows how many hundreds of thousands of creatures have fallen here? And for what? Land? Honour? Power? My parents both died from wars against other tribes."

Judos was hesitant to believe what Ætharr was saying, but he could see what motivated Ætharr to think like this, "What do you want to do about it? None can bring the dead to life."

Ætharr shook his head, "I don't want children growing up in Calador without parents, if I can help it. I want to end these wars within our land and be able to prepare for war beyond our borders. If we combined our armies together, imagine what would be possible!"

"What about the alliance?" Judos broke in, "What about all that trouble we went through to keep that collaboration alive?"

"It will continue, if appropriate,' Ætharr said, 'Indeed, I would not want to destroy my allies and break my honour. I want to destroy those who oppose us, and secure our power in this land. We would divide up the land and be in friendship!"

Judos was still skeptical, "And what will become of a smaller group of tribes growing more and more powerful? What will happen if they decide you are not acting in their interest?"

Ætharr paused, "You believe our allies capable of that?"

Judos opened his mouth, and closed it again. No, there was a very slim chance that there would be a conspiracy against Ætharr. He had made too many friends, and too many honest creatures had given their word of honour.

All the same, Judos continued, "It only takes one tribe to cause a disaster."

"And which tribe would that be?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe the tribe that ordered the death of Tiarnan."

Ætharr glared, "This is getting us nowhere, and you know it."

Judos nodded, "So what will you do?"

Ætharr sighed, "I will do what is best for Calador."

Judos smiled in spite of himself, "You usually do."

Ætharr looked up curiously, "What would you do in my place?"

Judos raised an eyebrow, "I could not possibly give a good answer in ten seconds of thought, could I? I will never know what it's like to be in your place."

Ætharr grunted, and excused his friend.

Both of them knew that while Judos would never know what it was like to be Ætharr, he came closer to the truth than anybody else.


	42. Chapter 42

41

Oakfur had regained consciousness from his wounds, though he was still very weak. It was clear that he would not last the season. It was too painful for him, and age had worn out his resilience. It was the beginning of the end for the Badger Lord.

Roaveen had visited his father every day since the accident, though none heard the dialogue that passed between them when Oakfur woke up. However, one gossipy hare nurse had noted to her friends that once, when she had treated the Badger Lord's wounds, she had stayed outside to listen. Nothing was said: looking in, she could see Roaveen staring at his father with a guarded face, perhaps even bitter.

Korari came just as frequently, but unlike Roaveen, he tried at first to speak to his father. However, the awkwardness that had passed between them was too great to endure, so Korari merely sat and waited for his father to say something. The time stretched for ages in these situations.

The hares were subdued and unsure of what to do. The Mountain Regiment had been laid off for this period of grief. Many hares wanted to give their condolences to the Badger Lord's sons. Others wanted to give their sympathies to the Badger Lord himself. None of them accepted them well, except for Korari, who was grateful for any kind of help that the hares gave him.

Roaveen was bitter and angry, conflicting ideas racing through his head. What to say to such a creature as his father? It was not worth trying to find out. It would make him look ridiculous and weak, and he did not want his father to die with that image in his head. So he said nothing for a while, just sat there looking upon the once proud and mighty Badger Lord.

Then, he found his tongue and decided to comfort his father with the knowledge that Roaveen had learned from him.

He approached Oakfur the third day after Oakfur regained consciousness, and sat down. He leaned in, "I will say one thing, father. I will thank you for giving me the important lessons to remember. You taught me to never reveal my weaknesses. No one can help me; nobody could understand what is to be me, so I will not wholly trust anyone again. You have been the guide in my life. You helped me become this way. Die content of this news."

He slowly smiled at his father, but the father did not return the smile. He suddenly grimaced and shook his head. Roaveen suddenly felt more hurt than he'd ever felt in his life.

"Even now, you show nothing but scorn for me,' Roaveen fumed, and his self-control broke down. Tears pricked Roaveen's eyes, and he left the room to weep in the darkness where none would see this emotion.

Had he stayed, Oakfur would have told him that his wounds throbbed in rhythms, and he had been hit by one when Roaveen told him this admission. The shudder had caused him to shake his head, and the pain had almost made him cry out. But even if he had told him, Roaveen would likely not have believed him.

Korari was even worse off. He dared not say anything at all anymore, merely sitting there and hiding from his father's face. Had he looked up once, he would have seen the anguish in his father's face, yet even if he did, he would have interpreted it as the physical pain from his wounds.

Finally, his father said one thing to Korari.

It was something that Korari had never expected to hear; it shocked him to the core of his soul.

In a creaking voice, Oakfur spoke to his youngest son, "Find Thornback and bring him back. I wish to see him one last time."

Korari stared in horror at his father, slowly standing up. It seemed that the obedience in his mind drove him to walk out and leave, while his mind was completely paralysed. Thornback had been gone so long... who knew where he could be?

He would have to try. He would do this last thing for his father.

Hastily packing a rucksack, he headed out to the gates. He was stopped by Ormond and Sophus. The two stared at him in surprise, "Where you going, lord?" In this time, they no longer called Korari by his given name.

Korari looked at them, "I'm looking for Thornback."

As Korari had been, the hares were shocked, "But surely no one will find him again!"

Korari looked at the two of them, "You can help me if you wish."

Both puffed out their chests. Sofus spoke for them, "Most certainly! We shall accompany every arduous step of this perilous journey!"

Another half-hour later, the three of them headed out to the shore.

Ormond looked at Korari, "Where are we headed?"

Korari looked down at the sand by his feet, "Where do you think he could have gone? Certainly not across the sea. That leaves three directions."

Sophus gave a sad smile, "Three searchers, three directions?"

Ormond sighed, "We should get more hares."

Suddenly, Korari noticed a large strange-looking bird preening its feathers by the ocean shore. It was some kind of gull that travelled great distances in migration. A sudden surge of hope flooded Korari's mind and he ran for the bird, "Excuse me!"

The bird, spooked by the sudden appearance prepared to jump away. Korari halted in horror, but the bird did not fly away. It stared in surprise at the badger, but the badger felt as though the gull was peering at his face.

Finally, the bird spoke, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Korari shrugged, "Have you ever been to this region before?"

The bird shook her head, "No, this is my first time. I'm heading south right now. Winter's on its way and I want to get a head's start."

Korari extended his paws wide, "Please, answer me this. I'm looking for another badger named Thornback."

The bird stared in shock, "Of course! You're his brother! Now I know where I've seen your face before!" She began to tell Korari of where he was.

Korari was thrilled beyond imagination! His brother was alive and well, living somewhere in the north. If he could just reach him...

"Could you guide us to the Highlands, Walla?" (the gull had mentioned her name during the discussion).

Walla paused, "It's a hard road if you've never taken it before."

Korari pleaded, "My father is dying and wants to see Thornback before he dies. Please help us!"

Walla noddded, "Alright then. It shouldn't take too long if you're that determined."

Korari was that determined. For hours he would run as fast as he could, following the bird up in the air in front of him. Always beside him were Ormond and Sophus, those two loyal hares. They were far fitter than Korari, yet kept pace with him anyway.

This was the way it worked. For a week they travelled further and further north, until snow appeared on the ground before them. There wasn't much, but it showed how early snow came to the North.

Walla lead them over hills, around swamps, and through pine groves. No trouble befell them except for when a pack of crows thought they could outfight the three journeyers from Salamandastron. Other than that, the journey went by quickly. Though for Korari, it seemed to go on forever; his father could be dead now for all he knew.

Finally, they clambered to the top of the last hill, only to see the Highlands before them. It was a city; it was like nothing they'd ever seen before. The three Salamandastron natives stood in awe of the sight of this mighty gathering of creatures. And somewhere, Thornback was there.

Walla flew towards the castle, which was found one of the hills in this city. It could not be missed.

Korari headed for the city, the two hares behind him. Was Thornback ruling this place? Was he a prisoner? What had happened to him all this time?

Hares stopped to stare at Korari as he headed through the streets, flanked by Ormond and Sophus. Some called out to Korari, but their accents were so thick that he could not understand them.

Suddenly, an otter and squirrel stood in front of them. They nodded respectfully to the three newcomers, "Welcome to the Highlands. How can we help you, badger?"

Korari looked at the otter, "Who are you? I'm searching for another badger named Thornback."

The otter blinked in surprise and looked at the squirrel in surprise. He looked back at Korari, "I am Skipper, and my friend is Jander. We are friends of Thornback: what do you want of him?"

Korari felt a thrill in his heart: he had succeeded! He spoke again, "I am his brother Korari."

Jander stared at Korari, "Cripes, but he does look a lot like him now that I see it."

Skipper nodded respectfully at Ormond and Sophus, and looked back at Korari, "We'll take you to him."

They weaved along through the streets, until they stood in front of the castle. Skipper and Jander were clearly well known there, for the guards asked no questions as they walked in.

Korari marvelled at the construction up here in the Highlands. Salamandastron seemed to be such a narrow place in the face of all this.

Skipper led them to a hall where two thrones rested on one end. There were none seated on the throne, but there were several courtiers standing around and discussing amongst themselves. One hare looked very royal, with a crown upon his head. He was dressed in an embroidered tunic, and a ceremonial robe that he had draped over his throne.

Skipper headed for the king, "King Priam! Visitors to see you from Salamandastron."

Thornback must have told them about his past, Korari wondered, as he stared at the tall hare who now looked at him, Ormond, and Sophus. The hare nodded respectfully, "I am Priam, King of the Highlands, and I welcome ambassadors from Salamandastron."

Korari had not thought of himself as an ambassador, but he liked the respectful tone Priam had placed on the title, so he did not contradict the hare. Instead, he stepped forward, "My name is Korari, son of the Badger Lord Oakfur. He is dying." As he said this, he suddenly felt a wave of emotion that he managed to suppress.

Priam nodded sympathetically, sadness on his face, "I am sorry for you." His face suddenly looked curious, "How may this influence myself?"

Korari gestured with his paw, "Little for you, lord, but there is one called Thornback amongst you."

Priam was surprised, "Yes, he is governor of the Highlands."

Korari took a breath to calm himself- all eyes were on him- and he said, "I am his brother."

He heard footsteps behind him, coming into the hall, then the footsteps stopped suddenly. They had been the only sound in the hall.

Looking around, he saw a sight he'd crossed many miles over a course of almost a week to see.

His brother, Thornback.

Thornback's whole demeanour was shocked. Slowly, tears pricked at the badger's eyes, and his jaw opened.

"My brother..." A hoarse whisper came out of the badger before he was silent again. Korari too, felt tears prick his eyes at the sight of his brother.

"Thornback!"

"Korari!"

It was the first time either of them had said each other's names in a long time. Rushing forward at last, they embraced, to embarassed laughter from those watching.

"" "" "" "" " "" "" "" ""

Both wanted to hear everything about what the other had done. They went out of the castle to speak to each other. Ormond and Sophus were left to enjoy the hospitality that ambassadors earned.

Thornback told his brother all about what he had been up to since he'd left Salamandastron. It had been such a long time ago, it seemed to both of them. Both had grown older, bigger, different in some way. Or maybe Korari thought it was just Thornback. Certainly Thornback seemed like an administrator, but nothing hid the wounds on Thornback's frame or the long, embroidered spear he carried.

It took a long time to even summarize what Thornback had done, and by the end of it all, Korari was speechless. Next to that, there was nothing to tell on his part. But he tried to tell him about Salamandastron. Thornback seemed to grow resentful when told of Roaveen's slow takeover, and his success with the Mountain Regiment. He grew bitter when Korari told him of their father, as though he did not want to hear about his family.

Korari then told him about the accident, Thornback was shocked out of his angry memories.

He stared at his brother, "How bad is he?"

Korari sighed, "I don't know. They say he won't last to see the end of next season. He might die next week."

Thornback looked hurt, and turned away, "How is Roaveen taking it?"

"He's pretty upset. He never talks about it to anyone."

Thornback gave no reaction to it, merely thinking about his brother.

Korari knew Thornback would not take this next news very well, but he knew it was the most important reason of all. He nerved himself to speak, "Our father asked for you to come back."

Thornback looked at Korari in shock, much like when he saw him again in the hall, and then a murderous look came over his face. He snarled the words at Korari, "What?"

Korari did not know what to say. He had expected this, but had no answer for it.

Thornback's initial rage subsided mildly after a moment, but his voice was still choked with emotion, "How dare he do that to me! Of all the times I asked for affection and went away unanswered!"

Korari nodded sadly, "I know you and Father had bitter fights, but please, Thorn. Don't make me go back to him and tell him you refused to see him! Don't make me return to his bedside with that information!"

"And why not?' Thornback fumed, 'I owe nothing to him anymore. And neither do you!"

Korari was suddenly frightened that Thornback would refuse to go, "What are you talking about? I've tried to help him in his old age, and I've tried not to clash with Roaveen!"

Thornback looked away, "I haven't forgiven either of them. I never will!"

Korari winced, "I'm not asking you to forgive him! I'm asking you to speak to him one last time!"

Thornback growled, "And what made him think that I would come back?"

"Because you're his _son_!' Korari exclaimed in desperation, 'Because he is your father! Because for all his faults, he looked after you and clothed you and fed you for most of your life, and because he is dying and wants to speak to you one last time!"

Thornback did not know what to say. He tried to look defiant, but a shadow of doubt was on his face.

Korari continued, "My God, but you don't even know what he'll say! Maybe he wants to say he's sorry! Maybe he wants to finally say he loves you!"

Thornback glared furiously, "I will never accept it now." But Korari could tell he was holding back emotions.

Korari stared pleadingly at his brother, "Then at least be there to refuse it! Show him what he's done to you! Give him your anger and hate, but give it to him in the eye! Look him in the face and say it rather than hide from him!"

Thornback stared at Korari for a long time, then growled and turned away, "Fine. We'll leave tomorrow."


	43. Chapter 43

42

Thornback fumed as he thought about what he would say to his father. What could he possibly say to the person who had driven him from his home?

The badger was confused and worried. What could he possibly have to say? And what would be gained in this? How could he face his father when he was in such a weakened condition and connect it to the powerful and dominating father of the majority of his life?

Thornback thought about all this, and was still thinking about it when there was a knock on his door.

It was Sophus and Ormond. Both remembered Thornback well, and as Thornback had no quarrel with either one, he welcomed them into his private quarters.

Ormond took a drink of the wine that had been placed on the table, "I see you've set yerself up here nicely, wot."

Thornback grinned, "Aye. It's a series of ample rewards. Good friends, wealth, time to spend making the Highlands a better place...' His face fell, 'It didn't come cheap."

Ormond smiled wanly at his friend. Sophus had already met with Bethia, now appointed to Official Historian of the Highlands, and was already filling his mind with history of the place. He had brought up a book with him that had been borrowed from Bethia's library.

Sophus looked at Thornback, "Oh we know it didn't come cheap. We've heard about all this history of the Highlands. You went through a lot of fights, and lost a lot of friends doing it. And you've prettied up your looks, I can see." He added the last part in acknowledgement of the disfiguring scars that Taskill had inflicted on Thornback's face.

Thornback looked at Sophus, "What are you getting at?"

Sophus smiled, "At Salamandastron we've come to accept we must do the same thing as you've done. Only we will likely never get the rewards you have right now. I don't deny that you've suffered. You have, and you would have made your father proud."

Thornback frowned darkly, "His problem was that he never showed you his feelings. He hid his emotions from us, even as children."

Ormond smiled, "He pushed you to be better, you mean?"

Thornback looked sharply at Ormond, "Don't win me over with that tripe."

Ormond grinned to get the sting out of his next words, "I don't think it will win you over, but for your father's sake it should be said anyway. He raised you the way he thought best. Or maybe he merely raised you the way he himself had been raised. Have you ever wondered what happened to him in his life that made him the way he is today?"

Thornback shrugged, "I know nothing of my father's past. He never talked about it."

Sophus nodded seriously, "That he did not."

Thornback looked at the two of them, "You two were sent by Korari?"

Sophus grinned, "No. We had a feeling that if you really wanted to go back, we'd already be on our way."

Thornback shrugged, "I said yes. But I delayed until tomorrow."

Ormond was confused, and looked at Sophus, "But then what's the point of all this, then?" Thornback almost said the same thing as Ormond.

Sophus rolled his eyes, "If you were any more inquisitive, Ormond, you'd know that this is an attempt to help Thornback in his reunion with his father."

Thornback frowned again, "I don't know if I could say anything to him. Hell, he might not say anything to me either. It will just be another awkward silence that stood between any emotion from my father."

Sophus sighed, "Aye, that could happen. But you could also go to him and say what you felt about him. Whatever's in your heart. But the point is, don't be wantonly cruel because you've sat on your anger until it's filled you up."

Thornback was suddenly reminded of his father. Was he more like his father than he thought?

Sophus continued, "And anyway, if your father's attitude had not made you decide to leave Salamandastron, would you have done anything in the Highlands? Met the people you had met?"

Thornback fumed inwardly at this truth. It was just another fact that would disarm his darkest thoughts in a reunion with his father.

Sophus looked at Thornback, "Do you need anything else?"

Thornback shook his head, "Thank you for trying to help."

The two hares left. Thornback sat in his chair, unsure of what to do next.

"" "" "" "" """ "" """ "" " " "" " """"" "" "" " "'" """

Korari approached his brother the next day after breakfast, "Are you ready to go?"

Thornback nodded, "Let's go to the dock."

"Dock?" Korari was surprised.

Thornback raised his eyebrow, "You think we have to walk to Salamandastron? We can take a ship in half the time. The sea otters are very efficient, and they've been our allies since Lord Brocktree."

Ormond and Sophus grinned at each other. Both were betting which of them would be seasick first.

They packed their belongings and headed towards the dock. King Priam and a host of others had bade Thornback goodbye, to which Thornback replied that he would be back within a week.

Priam looked at Thornback, "What about your duties as governor? Who do you wish to act as deputy?"

Thornback smiled, "I'll let you decide, Priam."

A hare Korari hadn't seen before stepped forward, "Will ye be alright, Thorn?"

Thornback shrugged, "I doubt you'd change anything Maon. This is a conflict between me and my father. But thank you."

Suddenly, Skipper and Jander emerged, their own belongings packed, "We're going home too."

Thornback was surprised, and saddened. The otter and squirrel had been amongst his most loyal friends, and though they'd take the same ship, it was sad to think he'd never see them again.

Jander shrugged, "I've been away from Mossflower for so long, and Skipper needs to go back to his otters. And we've both longed to see Redwall again for a long time."

Thornback tried to smile, "You've both earned it."

A brawny sea otter approached them, "It's the perfect time to cast off, ladies and gents. I'm thinking we'd a best head out."

The travellers boarded the ship at last, and with a slow acceleration, the Highlands disappeared from sight as they went down the coast.

Korari wondered what his brother would say when he and Oakfur finally saw each other again. It had been a long time ago; would they forget their differences and finally open up? Or would things not change?

If the journy towards the Highlands was not memorable, the journey back home went even faster. Korari had been so determined to reach his destination that he hadn't really thought about anything else. This time, he spent much time speaking with Skipper and Jander, whose companionship were truly worth having aboard. Thornback was prone to silent moods in his cabin, but tried to put aside his anger and bitterness when faced with socializing. Ormond and Sophus kept up their usual banter, finding great friends in the otter and squirrel.

After three days, the mountain of Salamandastron came into view once again. For the first time in his life, Korari felt a tremble of fear as he looked upon his home. He had no idea what would now come to pass.

Thornback took a moment to say goodbye to his friends, Skipper and Jander, before stepping out of the ship and onto a dinghy that one of the sea otters would row. Korari, Ormond, and Sophus climbed in as well, and with a few more waves from Jander, the dinghy drifted away from the ship.

Listening to the splashes of water, the call of distant birds, and feeling the cold wind coming from the sea, Korari inwardly trembled as he thought of what would happen when Thornback returned. Only this time, he thought not about his father, but about Roaveen. What would the oldest brother think when faced with the long-gone brother Thornback? Would there be anger? Would there be forgiveness?

Thornback was the first to step off the boat. A grim look of resolution was on his face, and he walked towards the mountain with dignity, using his spear as a walking stick through the sand.

A group of leverets were out playing along the mountain slope, when they saw the sight of a fully-grown badger approach his old home bearing the scars of his past, and a spear that seemed to have been made for him.

They ran inside to alert the other hares, and within moments, a crowd began to gather just as Thornback approached the mountain's entrance.

Old Major Jackers, and his equally old friend, Colonel Seahawk, were in the fore. They had always thought Thornback was the smartest of his brothers, and had lamented the departure of the badger. Now they stared in surprise as an older, scarred, fully grown male badger head up to the mountain's entrance.

Jackers attempted to speak to the badger, "Thornback? Y-you've returned at last?"

Thornback gave a neutral look at Jackers, "I've come back, yes. Temporarily. I want to see my father one last time. Where is he?"

Jackers pointed vaguely inside the mountain, "He's being cared for in the Infirmary."

He stepped past the hares, who willingly made room for him. All were stunned to see the middle son back at Salamandastron.

At first, Thornback's memory went blank as he stared around at the passageways in the mountain. As he slowly plodded along, it returned to him in pieces, steadily faster and faster. He made his way towards the Infirmary, followed by a number of hares.

Thornback paused only once, as he stood outside the Infirmary, for one moment fearing what he would see inside. It was as though his memories from childhood were lashing out one last time. He remembered his quarrels with his father, the angry words that had been exchanged, the words of hatred that had been swallowed, and now the last exchange between him and his father. He knew what he would say. Would he wait for what his father would say? Or would he leave before his father could speak? No, he'd rough out anything that his father would give him.

He stepped inside. His father was heavily bandaged, and he did not look well at all. He had once been a proud and mighty Badger Lord, now he was reduced to this. It was certainly a surprise to Thornback, but he had been expecting something like this. Tightening his grip on his spear shaft, as if it gave him solace, Thornback sat down next to his father's bed.

The two of them looked at one another in silence. Neither wanted to say the first thing, it seemed. Or they were trying to think of how the other felt.

Thornback began, "I've returned."

Oakfur grimaced, "Have you missed your home?"

Thornback paused, astonished at the seeming lack of hostility in his father's voice, "It is not my home anymore."

Oakfur's expression did not change, but Thornback felt as though he had wounded his father.

Oakfur spoke again, his voice more tense, "And am I not your father anymore? Are Roaveen and Korari not your brothers?"

Thornback frowned, angry that this line of argument was being used. His father had always used this before in arguments, to show how ridiculous Thornback was being. It brought the bitterness out easier in Thornback's retort, "And am I not your son? Am I not entitled to the attention Roaveen received compared to me and Korari?"

Oakfur frowned angrily, "You have remained on the same level with me?"

Thornback smiled mirthlessly, "No. I've grown. I've been in war. I've proved myself as a leader, a warrior, and an administrator. I have shown my worth to others quicker to please than you."

Oakfur shook his head, "If only you could understand that what I did was not a bad thing for you!"

Thornback nodded, "I do."

Oakfur looked at him in surprise. Yes, genuine surprise. He had not expected this from Thornback.

Thornback knew this was the moment for what he had meant to say, what he had thought of before coming into this room, this mountain again. He took a breath and spoke,

"You were a harsh teacher and a hard father. I've always been the one you had the most trouble with, and you dealt with me in your way. I don't know why you became what you are. Maybe you had a father who treated you harshly, maybe you had a great tragedy in your life' Oakfur's eyes widened, and all his anger drained from his face.

Thornback pressed on, "But whatever it was, you never spoke of it to anyone. Certainly you never spoke to us about it. But I didn't come here to watch you break. I don't want you to destroy you when you've fallen beneath your once-great stature. I came here to speak to you one last time before I leave this mountain to Roaveen and Korari.'

'I want you to know that I hated you. Truly despised you enough to leave home, too proud to back down on my vow to leave. I wanted to hurt you by showing how you drove me away from the mountain with your rigidity. But it hurt me too. It hurt me so that I repressed my anger and hatred, seeking what I had been denied from someone else. And I almost found it, but those people who displayed such things I had wanted so badly were taken away from me. I learned to fight, I learned to lead, I learned to be a true Badger Warrior. As you once were, as Roaveen had become.'

'Since then, I've dared not to stray too far into my memories here. I've tried to hide away my past from myself. I've learned that's impossible. But it is possible to learn from it, move on, and become a better person because of it. In this sense, I have still failed. I was always so angry with you that I did not want to try and think about it.'

'But I must confess, that you did a great thing for me. You drove me from the mountain by a combination of your stubbornness and my pride. If you had yielded, or if I had not had the urge to show you my true character, I would never have seen what I have seen, or accomplished what I have done. I would never have brought the rightful ruler of the Highlands to his throne, or renewed the alliance of the King's Scroll between the Highlands and Salamandastron. And all this is thanks to your harshness. You made me tough enough to face impossible odds. You gave me anger and stubbornness and an urge to never fail.'

'But this came with a price to you, Father. A teacher may be harsh to the student, make him miserable at times, eventually the student will succeed, but then the teacher cannot expect compassion from the student. The student will always be wary of the teacher, who drove him hard and relentlessly. It was necessary, and the student can accept that. But something in the student will never forgive for those moments of anger and misery. He will not forget the times when he wanted praise and only received aloofness in favour of a better student. He will remember those moments every time he sees the teacher. And that is how I look upon you now. With respect, but no tenderness or true compassion. If you wanted me to weep upon your death bed, then you should have ammended your Spartan behaviour. But that aside, I will always remember you with respect and acknowledgement. You will always have been a great Lord of Salamandastron, you will always have been a proud creature with strict codes, and you will always have been my father."

He stood and took his father's bandaged paw in his own, "Goodbye father. May you always be honoured as you deserve."

He turned away, surprised at how hard he had to blink back the tears from falling as he left his father for good. Despite everything, it still hurt to say goodbye once and for all.

As he walked away, he was suddenly aware of someone watching him. Turning to his left, Thornback saw that it was Roaveen, staring at him from the top of the staircase.

The older brother walked down to the younger, bitterness in his voice as he called out, "When the hares told me about your return I couldn't believe it. Why would you possibly come back to see our father?"

Thornback glared coldly at Roaveen. Here, it seemed, nothing had changed, "Our father called for me to return. I owed it to him to be back."

Roaveen glared at Thornback, "And who told you of this plight? Who did our father send to get you?"

Thornback suddenly realized that Korari was in trouble. Roaveen would exact his anger out on the youngest of the three brothers, no doubt, when given the chance.

He tried to reason with Roaveen, "Listen, brother. If you want to resent the fact that you were not informed of my return, take it up with Father. He would have told you if he had thought you would go to the effort of finding me. But he knew that Korari was the only one I would have listened to."

This was true, but Roaveen would not acknowledge it. He growled and stepped forward, "You never wanted me to be ruler. You always thought I was a monster, a stupid fool who did not deserve to be the heir."

Thornback wanted to retort, but knew it made no difference. He had not come back to Salamandastron for Roaveen.

Instead, he gave a cold smile, "Rest assured, I will not try to take this mountain; I've found something better. Salamandastron is yours. I would hope you look to me and the Highlands ruler as allies, but I will not ask you for compassion and love. That hope has died a long time ago. I would only ask you to be good to Korari: he has attempted to forgive you for your cruelty. He's far less stubborn than I, and in some ways, a greater person than I will ever be."

He frowned up at Roaveen, "Though frankly, I hope we do not meet again."

Roaveen inclined his head coldly, "Farewell, Thornback." His voice had no compassion or acknowledgement in it: he merely stated that Thornback would not be welcome in Salamandastron if he could help it.

Thornback hefted his spear and turned away, "Goodbye brother."

The next day, when the tide was right, Thornback sailed back again. Everyone- he, his brothers, all of Salamandastron- thought that this would be the final return of Oakfur's middle son. As they would come to see, this was not to be.


	44. Chapter 44

43

Judos resumed his teaching as soon as possible, so that the students did not lose what they had learned.

Many were pleased that the lessons resumed. He had gained their respect over the days listening to his lectures.

Ædron, Lorcan, and Ædelmær had returned with him from Tiarnan's funeral, for it was fitting that they paid respect to their grandfather. They were pressured by sons of those present to tell them what they saw of their fathers. Ædron took this popularity in stride, proud of this attention. Judos decided not to say anything: they were children after all.

Ædelmær was less swamped by the youngsters. He was more of a loner amongst the students. Certainly there was Lorcan, and there were the sons of Craterus and Ptolemy. But Ædron had distanced himself from Ædelmær, especially after his humiliation in wrestling. Judos was astonished at how touchy Ædron was behaving, but knew that children were extra emotional and had to give them some distance.

Lorcan was the most easygoing of the brothers. He was liked naturally, it seemed, and he never seemed to notice. He treated everyone the same and maintained his positive attitude. Judos was mildly surprised at this laid back attitude from Lorcan, but Lorcan seemed to genuinely enjoy being social and learning from a good teacher.

Ædelmær was more serious, but also more insecure of himself. It was wasn't just his size- though that bothered him greatly- but it was also the admiration he had of his father, and his fear of not matching him.

Judos was surprised that a child like Ædelmær should be worrying about this, but he knew not to try and take this out of the weasel's head. He was in Calador, and like it or not, he had to live by the Calador laws.

Meanwhile, Judos welcomed Ben the raccoon to live with them as he was given secret orders from Jinn and Ætharr.

Ben was living an undercover life in Judos' home, hidden from almost everybody for the most part. Judos was growing to like Ben, and the two of them frequently dined together in Judos' hall. They shared stories of their lives, and found much conversation.

On one particular day, Judos was lecturing the students on the history of Mossflower, and this day, his two friends Selma and Ben dropped by discretely to hear him speak.

Craterus' son, Nearchus, raised his paw, "Master, if so many have fallen in Mossflower, why do they persist in returning to fight?"

Judos grimaced, "There are many cowards and bullies in this world, and they make a mistake of underestimating Redwall because they love peace. Redwall has always kept a group of warriors in its walls so to muster them to battle when necessary."

Ædelmær spoke up, "How do they choose these warriors? Where do they come from?"

Judos almost smiled. The third son of Ætharr was always asking the most inquiring questions.

He took a breath, "Well, Ædelmær, that is a case of the spirit of Martin the Warrior. He seeks out the greatest of the inhabitants of Redwall, or he foresees the arrival of a warrior who seeks peace. They are given the Great Sword of Martin, a mighty blade that has survived more wars than can possibly be remembered. The Warrior of Redwall is a gifted warrior, but also a noble leader."

Ptolemy's elder son, Meleager, raised his paw, "Is that why you have the blade of Martin?"

Judos did a double take, staring at Meleager, "What are you talking about?" Judos never brought the Sword of Martin with him to class. It was not necessary and he didn't want such questions on it.

Meleager looked troubled by Judos' reaction, but persisted, "Well, your sword has to be the one you're talking about. It's the best sword I've ever seen."

Judos frowned, "When have you seen it?"

"You wore it at Tiarnan's funeral. I was there with my father."

Judos had forgotten, and now there were murmurs from others in the group who had been at Tiarnan's funeral.

Judos sighed, "No it is not the sword of Martin. If that was the sword, I would have had to steal it."

Some of the students stared at one another at the thought of stealing such a precious weapon. Even to these youths, the thought of taking what didn't belong to them was a high crime.

And Judos suddenly felt a terrible churning in his stomach. He had lied to these students as he had lied to himself all this time. He had stolent he sword from Redwall merely because he thought Martin wanted him to have it. He forced himself to focus on the lessons, but it would not disappear completely from his mind.

After class ended, Selma walked up to him, "You looked very troubled when they spoke of the Sword of Martin." Her face was concerned, but Judos could see that she was also very curious about whether Judos had indeed stolen the Sword.

Judos knew that he could not hide the truth from Selma, "I was a foolish youth who wanted to hurt as I had been hurt." Selma knew what he was talking about: he had told her about the death of his father and mother.

Selma hardened, "I've known that the sword doesn't belong to you, but I kept silent. I never thought you'd actually stolen it outright."

Judos did not know what to say so he turned his back on her, his eyes shut. Selma knew this was a dismissal of her lord, and she had always been obedient even when angry with him. Judos was hurt that even Selma was against him on this. They were such good friends.

What was worrying Judos the most was the fact that he still held the Sword of Martin the Warrior. More and more it gnawed on his conscience with every passing day. He did not want to be a thief: he was not Redwall's Warrior, and he had no right to the sword. Despite his love for the blade and his ability with it, he knew he had to return it to Redwall.

But how? Judos did not want to make the journey to Redwall. Though he missed the kindly Abbott Varrus and a few others, he knew that it would be impossible to explain himself to their questions. The truth would anger them and hurt them. He did not want to see that.

He looked at Ben, hiding in the shadow of a large post holding up the roof, "Ben. You have been to Redwall have you not?"

Ben scowled, remembering the trouble over there, "Aye, but I wouldn't give the sword straight back to Redwall if I were you. There's going to be a change of leadership, and there's some nasty creatures up there who ought not to get their hands on this blade."

Judos looked at him, "Then can you give the sword to the right people?"

Ben shrugged, "Aye. I could." He waited for the inevitable.

Judos made his offer, "Forty Caladors." No official name had been given, so most people called the new coins Caladors. It had a nice patriotic ring to it.

Ben nodded, "Done."

Judos hesitated then added, "And do not say anything about me. I do not want them to go looking for me."

"" "" "" " " "" """ ""

Ben knew that he had to stay hidden even as he travelled back to Mossflower. The Sword of Martin was clasped on his back, and his shillelagh was always in his hand as he crept along the landscape, looking for anybody that might see him.

He dared not light a fire, for it would not serve to draw attention to himself, and when he found a place to sleep, he found a place as remote and hidden as possible.

For two days and two nights Ben travelled in this fashion, never letting his guard down. He wondered at times why he had taken Ætharr's deal if it meant his life was in such danger. He ought to demand a higher price, he thought.

On the third day, Ben entered the thick forest of Mossflower once again. He had a while to go yet before he saw Redwall. Of course, he did not know, but he would never live to see Redwall again.

He travelled onwards, more alert than ever now that anyone could see him from the trees. Anybody could see him from this forest. Ever since his escapade with the Painted Ones, Ben didn't like the look of a forest as much as he once had. Now it was not only a hiding spot for him, but also for others.

The sun was difficult to see through the thick foliage, but Ben could tell that it was almost noon. The sun seemed to be shining right on top of him as he headed along the dark earth. He tried not to rustle any bushes as he walked, and even breathing was kept low and quiet.

But Ben was thirsty: he had run out of water for the first time in a while and he needed a drink from the river. He knew it was risky, but as he walked on, the thirst began to gnaw on him. He tried to ignore it, as he had done before, but he knew he would eventually need a drink before reaching Redwall. It was too hot, these last days of summer. The heat blanketed itself amongst the trees, and plagued Ben every time he drew breath.

Finally he could stand it no longer. He turned and headed for the river, knowing where it was. He was still a ways from Redwall and knew he had to get hurrying if he was to reach it by nightfall.

But what would he do? Ben was not sure how he would deliver the sword to Mother Sara under Varrus' nose. The Abbott would find out and then there'd be hell to pay. Ben would be detained, questioned, held as a prisoner like Adisa had, and there was no telling when he'd get out.

Just as he thought of that, he pushed back some bushes, and saw the river before him. The water flowed on at a lazy pace, and the brushing sound of water plants at the river's edge filled the racoon's ears.

And Skipper was standing at the riverside talking to Jander!

Ben could not believe his eyes. They were here? They were heading back to Redwall at last? What did they know of what had happened?

Ben stepped forward, for the squirrel and otter had looked up and had seen him. They jumped in astonishment.

"Ben!" Skipper exclaimed. He walked towards the raccoon, "What are you doing here? Last I saw you, you had left the Highlands for good."

Before Ben could speak, Jander pointed at his back, "You've got the Sword of Martin!" He stared at Ben in astonishment.

This was an awkward moment. The three stood there in a trance, none of them willing to say anything, all of them guessing what the others were thinking.

Finally Ben unlooped the sword- which he really had found to be the best-made sword he had ever seen- and tossed it towards Skipper, "I was going to return it to Redwall but you can do it yourself."

Jander did not cease staring at the raccoon, "Where did you find it?"

Ben shrugged, "I found it lying in the shallows of a creek. Someone must have tossed it in there to hide it from someone and never came back for it."

Skipper frowned in suspicion, "What about Judos? The otter who took the sword? Was he there?"

Ben lied straight-faced, almost casually, to Skipper, "He's dead."

Both squirrel and otter blanched, "Dead?"

Ben nodded, "I found the bodies of an otter and a hedgehog lying next to the river. They'd been dead for a while, couldn't even distinguish their faces." Judos had told Ben to say that. The Abbey would wonder where Mellor and I had gone, Judos had said, so tell them we are dead.

The raccoon was surprised to see a tear fall from Skipper's eye. The otter then looked to the sword, "What now, then, Ben?"

Ben shrugged, "You can return it to Redwall." If Skipper and Jander returned the weapon to Redwall, and repeated the tale that Judos and Mellor were dead- a half-truth to be sure- then the Abbey would mourn them and move on. Ben would not need to worry about Varrus' suspicions and he would be able to forget about Redwall.

Jander stared at the sword, then back at Ben, "Thanks, mate. Means a lot to us. We'll return it back to where it belongs."

They started to head for Redwall, then Skipper turned back, "What did you do with the bodies?"

Ben blinked, "I buried them next to the river. I laid some rocks on the graves and inscribed names on two crosses."

Skipper was emotionally touched by Ben's kindness, the raccoon could see, and felt slightly guilty when the otter had thanked him for his pains.

Ben took a long bath in the river, and turned back for Calador. He had not seen Redwall, nor would he again for the rest of his life.


	45. Chapter 45

44

Skipper and Jander had wanted to continue speaking to Ben, but the raccoon left quickly, and they had no chance to further question. Of course, both of them were so surprised by the sudden appearance of the Sword of Martin that they decided to head back to Redwall immediately.

There was a big problem, of course, that the two of them had no idea of as they headed in the direction of the Abbey through the woods of Mossflower. Neither of them knew of what had happened at the Abbey in all this time, and there was no way for them to find out until they arrived.

Or rather, there was one way, and it was watching the otter and squirrel from the bushes. Two pairs of eyes were fixed on the shining sword the otter held, and another pair of eyes spied on them from the branches. They were waiting to see what was going on, and listening to the conversation the two creatures were holding with each other.

Skipper stared ahead of him as he spoke to Jander, "So we've finally returned to Mossflower. I didn't think I was ever going to come back here."

Jander sighed, "Aye. After the Gousim left, and poor Raga was murdered, I knew that it was going to be the end of me. Remember up there on the mountains?"

Skipper shuddered, remembering the death of Log a Log Gunnar, "I wonder if those shrews ever made it back home."

Jander looked at the sword Skipper was carrying, "So what do we tell Abbott Varrus?"

Skipper sighed, "It's going to be a long story, matey. This one will need a lot of explaining."

Suddenly a bird suddenly flew down in front of them, "Redwallers! I have news for you!"

Jander's eyes lit up, "Warbeak! It's been so long since I last saw you!"

Skipper stared, "A sparrow that speaks our language?"

The sparrow nodded, "I am Warbeak, and I am accompanied with two companions."

Skipper turned to see where Warbeak was pointing and saw two creatures emerge from a nearby bush. One was a wizened old fox, the other a strange animal that he had never seen before.

The strange creature bowed slightly, "Sirs, I am Adisa, exiled from Redwall because I come to tell the truth."

Skipper and Jander raised their eyebrows. This was a surprise, indeed.

Warbeak continued, "Jander squirrel, I know you from old. I knew you when I first started to fly, and when I learned the language of your species. You know me to be telling the truth."

Jander nodded slowly, hesitantly, "Aye, so what's goin' on?"

Warbeak spread a wing from her body, "Abbott Varrus has done terrible things, recently and long past. He has been hiding crimes that have resulted in the deaths of many creatures. Adisa here has vowed to bring him to justice. The old fox is a witness we shall use at the trial, as am I."

Jander looked increduously at the sparrow, "Are you serious? I've known Varrus all my life, and I've never met a kinder and gentler old soul!"

Skipper frowned, "What do you mean, terrible crimes?"

Adisa stepped forward, "My family was wiped out by word of that otter. He ran from justice and has been hiding in Redwall ever since. He must be faced with justice. Mother Sara, Brother Conrad, Foremole, and Vinicio Cellar Hog have all agreed with me on this."

Jander pointed an accusing claw at Adisa, "Ha! Vinicio works in the kitchens! Arly Punto is Cellar Hog!"

Adisa's face darkened, "Arly Punto was murdered by rats hired by Varrus himself."

In all the adventures in the Highlands, in all the fights in the streets, never did Skipper see Jander's face so pale, so devastated, so horrified. The squirrel sank to the ground and wept.

Skipper too, was shocked by the news. But he knew that these creatures must have something to say, if so many powerful figures at Redwall secretly supported them.

He looked from Warbeak, to Jander, to the old fox, and to Adisa, "Tell us everything that has happened since we left."

Warbeak gestured with her wing, "We shall do that. Come with us."

"" "" "" " "" "" "" "" "" "" " "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Ætharr was weary from his long day. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for twelve hours and not be disturbed by anything.

There were times when being the Ealdor annoyed him considerably, and he would wonder if all Ealdors were like that. Certainly the theigns' lives were not easy, and the old friends Ætharr had known from childhood had all become adults wearied by living life. Ptolemy, Jinn, Horal, Ædall, and even Judos. All of them were settling into their roles, and surely they must be tired at times?

Ætharr lounged on his large chair, eating away at the roast bird in front of him. He sighed to himself as he ate the good food and drank the cool ale from his tankard. It was relieving after working so hard.

Yet for all his weariness, he was proud of himself. He did not need to make these trips around the country: he could be irresponsible and shirk his duties. He was doing his job properly, and was leading his tribe to prosper in plentiful times.

As he thought of that with a sting of happiness electrifying him, he thought of his plans against the Loptrio and Alcax tribes. He wondered if they would be difficult to conquer, but then he smiled as he thought of what would be facing them. They would have to repel not only the Calador fyrd, but the armies of the Hunan, Vireo, Jeri, and Falcarragh. Ætharr would become the most powerful leader in the vermin lands. Then he could set right the wrongs of so many years of violence and death. Vermin would be united in their struggles to live well. This dream would succeed, and Ætharr's name would be worshipped as a god's afterwards.

Ætharr felt a twinge of doubt. Was that not Oorlog's way? And the Millar tribe? No, he thought resolutely, for he was doing it for the greater good, to benefit the vermin as a whole, not just the Calador. He had done great things already and had slain treacherous tyrants for their horrid crimes. He would rise above that level and still become the warlord worthy of Calador legend.

Suddenly, a movement caught his eye, and he looked out of the door.

Rosheen, his wife, was standing on the hill that was the highest point of Æthelly, just outside the hall. She held little Nuala, their daughter, in her arms as she stood still as a statue.

Seeing her, Ætharr felt a warm feeling hit him and he rose from his chair. Heading across the hall, he smiled: his sons were still with Judos, learning to write, read, and know the histories of many different creatures around their own lands. They would grow to be fine warriors, leaders, and would make their father proud.

Gently, Ætharr rested his paws on Rosheen's shoulders as he carefully embraced her. Rosheen turned her head to smile at him, and little Nuala gurgled with delight at the sight of her father.

Tickling his little daughter on her toes, Ætharr thought of what she would be when older: would she marry some wealthy noble or valiant prince of another tribe, and move from her home and family? Would she grow to administer the land when her brothers were off away fighting some war? What would she be?

Rosheen tapped Ætharr on the shoulder, "Watch the sun set, Ætharr."

Ætharr turned to look, and saw the view with a thrill of amazement and fear.

The sky, normally blue, was a dark indigo, and at the horizon, it gave way to a hazy orange shade. At the end of this horizon, the sky was red, and a bright yellow sun was sinking away to surrender the day to night. It was a glorious sight to behold as the sun crept downwards and finally disappeared from sight.

Ætharr smiled: the sun had not been red. All was peaceful for now.

Of course, Ætharr knew that soon the red sun would re-emerge and would hail the bloody ambitions of the Ealdor. The nation of Calador would soon be the greatest tribe to ever stand on a battlefield of the world. And at the head of that army would stand Ætharr of Calador. The Ealdor.

END OF ÆTHARR OF CALADOR BOOK THREE

Stay tuned for the fourth and final book in the series (title to come later).


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